


How Much You Pierce My Spirit

by flinchflower, nubianamy



Series: The Donutverse [17]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Discipline, Dom/sub, Donutverse, Episode: s01e15 The Power of Madonna, Family Drama, Father-Son Relationship, M/M, Multi, Music Creation, Phone Calls & Telephones, Polyamory, Rivalry, Threesome - F/F/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 02:25:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 68,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2834744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nubianamy/pseuds/nubianamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Puck's visit to California brings lasting changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published as chapters 7-15 of The Fingers of Your Fire. 
> 
> Set just before, during and after episode 1.15 The Power of Madonna. This story follows You Come Regular Like Seasons and parallels both While We Got the Chance to Say and There's an Awful Lot of Breathing Room.
> 
> You can listen to the 8track playlist for Fingers of Your Fire [here](http://8tracks.com/nubianamy/the-fingers-of-your-fire) (part of the enormous FoYF one is still [on YouTube here](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLc72s_nGT2yT62f9-u6XxCAAE_VjrOVen), although people keep deleting the videos I link to!). I will also include links to all songs throughout the story, for reference.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burt, feeling overwhelmed by his son's relationship conflicts, calls Tess for support. Kurt asks his dad for a favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Flynn for cowriting this chapter, and all the Tess portions therein. This chapter runs concurrent with and echoes some of the dialogue in [chapter 6 in While We Got the Chance to Say](http://archiveofourown.org/works/788832/chapters/1489402).
> 
> Enjoy.  
> -amy

Burt shuffled his feet under the desk and moved his coffee cup from one place to another. It seemed equally awkward in the new place, and he moved it back.

He sighed.  _And I thought having one son was hard enough. Now I have three. And a daughter._ At least the three of them were talking again, but the tension around here had been thick lately. Kurt and Puck were on the phone every night with this Adam character, and Finn... Finn had hardly been around at all in the past couple weeks. Carole seemed largely accepting, but she hadn't been very forthcoming with him about her feelings about his new... thing.

He needed to talk to someone, someone who might understand - better than he did himself. Someone with experience dealing with the complicated nature of the situation. Burt took his ball cap off and rubbed his forehead. It was his favorite ball cap, and Carole had put it through the wash without asking him. Now it was far too clean and rubbed uncomfortably behind his ear.

He flipped the page in his notebook and gazed unhappily at the number on the next page. Then he sighed and picked up the phone, dialing the number with a certain amount of trepidation.  _She was very nice. No matter what she might... do, for a living._

"Hello," came the dark voice, with a certain amount of crowd noise behind it, though it muffled quickly. _"This is Tess."_

He cleared his throat and leaned forward in his chair. "Uh... hi, there... Tess?" he said. "This is... Burt Hummel. Kurt's dad. I hope this isn't a bad time."

 _"Of course,"_ she said warmly, and the background sounds faded significantly. _"I just didn't recognize the number, Burt. How are you?"_

"I'm all right, thanks. Er - how was your holiday? I heard you had a..." He trailed off, thinking of Finn's  _thing_ , and Carole's comment that had led him to scribble the number down in his notebook to begin with:  _Carl is an old friend of Tess'_. "A guest, for Christmas?"

_"I frequently do. There's a lot of extended family and friends who come around during the holidays. We close Tessera for a long weekend four times a year, and we always spend Christmas at home. My father usually comes, and James, Stephen and Alec stay with me as well, they have nieces and nephews who come out to go sledding on the hills around here."_

"That sounds nice. We were glad to have Puck back home in time for Christmas, too. I hear you had something to do with getting him back to Ohio." He smiled, as though she could see him. "I should thank you for that."

_"Hm. He was on his way back, Burt. He was pretty nervous about returning to you. I'd like to wring his father's neck for him, certainly, and his mother's as well. Noah called from the road, asking if he could stop and visit, and I made certain he stayed and got some rest."_

"Well, you did better than just about anybody else did, at giving him what he needed." He paused, carefully  _not_  thinking about Adam in California, and what he might or might not have given Puck when he was in Santa Fe. Burt suddenly needed a glass of water. He pushed his chair back and walked through the open doorway to the kitchen, running the tap for a minute. "For whatever reason, he listens to you, Tess. That's... well, I get that it's significant, for a kid like Puck."

 _"Thank you,"_ she said quietly into the silence. _"It's not easy when they're at that age. I'm more used to young people after they've gone out into the world. I did a lot of mentoring during my Army service; it tends to be second nature now, when I see someone in distress."_

Burt tipped the water glass under the tap until it was full, and took a long drink. "You know, Carole's husband Christopher, he was in the Gulf conflict. Died before Finn was more than a few years old."

_"I wasn't overseas at that time. I was stationed in California, at Fort Irwin - it's a training base, and troops rotate through there on their way home at times." Tess' voice was sort of soothing, calm and even._

"Yeah, I avoided the military myself. Too much anti-war influence in my family for it to be kosher." Burt knew he was making useless small talk, and it was starting to piss him off He took himself by the metaphorical shoulders and gave himself a stern shake. "Uh... none of that is why I called, though. I'm not sure if you've heard about the boys' upcoming trip to California, to see that singer... Lady Boo-boo, or something...?"

_"No? Not at all. When is this?"_

"Next weekend. I really don't know what I was thinking when I agreed to this." He gazed out the window at the backyard, watching the snow settle on the picnic table, and grimaced. "No, okay, I know  _exactly_  what I was thinking."

Tess laughed outright. _"I imagine you were looking at your little boy's pleading, starry eyes... a singer, you said? I know that feeling well; it's difficult not to cave in - and sometimes it's better to give way."_

"Well, see, it wasn't just that she's a singer, it was that Kurt had done this song..." Burt gave Tess a brief summary of Kurt's experience working up a version of Lady Gaga's - that was her name - song about hair, and Puck's brother's association with her, and her subsequent enthusiastic invitation to her home in California. He smiled to himself, remembering Kurt's flabbergasted response. "I know Kurt's fixation with performing. It's been like that since he was eight and he took first prize in our neighborhood talent show for his medley of songs from  _Funny Girl._  I can't in good conscience stand in his way. I mean, jeez, apparently, she's bigger than Elvis or something."

 _"I don't believe you are giving in, Burt,"_ said Tess. _"It sounds more like you're giving your son every possible opportunity. I know the name, though I wouldn't recognize her on the radio. Some of the younger set chatter about her when they get into discussions about music. Where in California is this?"_

"Bel-Air. Los Angeles is where they're flying in. Carole and I got them rooms at the Omni. Puck's brother Timothy helped us set it all up. And they'll be there with Brad, who helped Kurt with the song originally - he's the Glee club's accompanist."

_"How old are they? Brad and Timothy? Do you trust them?"_

"Well, Timmy's just a boy himself. He's twenty-one; been on his own since he was sixteen. To hear Kurt tell it, he walked out when his father was still at the Puckerman house. I don't know the details. Brad's an adult, maybe my age, a father. He teaches Kurt piano lessons. I've spoken with him..." That was something of an exaggeration; Burt had done nearly all the talking, but Kurt explained how Brad was, and how words didn't come easily to him. It had been fine, once they'd found common ground in discussing Brad's young toddlers and Kurt's experiences in piano. "He'll play chaperone, but..."

Tess sighed a little. _"But you don't know him well. Burt, Finn's a steady boy, and Kurt isn't exactly rash. And the two of them manage Noah well. I do understand your concern though, now that you've explained. I... hmm,"_ she mused.

He paused, listening to the quality of her silence. "What?"

 _"Well. I realize you don't know me that well either - but my father's about forty-five minutes out of LA. He's retired from the USMC, and he works with young men who are transitioning from the military into civilian life - he's been doing this for years. The boys he mentors tend to call him "The Colonel," rather than use his name, it's actually not a nickname - he retired at that rank. I'd be happy to give you his number - he's used to being pulled out of bed at all hours for phone calls and emergencies, not everyone has an easy time going from the USMC into civilian life, and often..."_ Tess sighed. _"He's had any number of medical discharges lately, and that's not an easy thing for an active young man to bear, a physical disability. He'd be happy to be on call for you and the boys, Burt. He loves young people."_

Burt leaned back on the counter, considering. Tess was right; he didn't know her well... but there was probably a reason he'd picked up the phone and dialed her number at nine o'clock at night, at a time when he'd felt anxious about his son - and his son's boyfriend - taking a trip alone across the country. "That's really kind of you, Tess," he said, feeling the tension across his shoulders ease somewhat.

 _"Bah,"_ she told him. _"They're young, and they need looking after, yet. If they get into trouble - even if someone's just anxious and homesick. Beau - my father - he's an old softie, though I'll thank you not to tell him I said that."_

"Whatever you say, Tess. You gave Puck the kind of guidance he needed when he was lost and alone in the middle of - well, Iowa. It stands to reason your father could do the same in the wilds of Los Angeles." He grinned at her chuckle.

 _"He's better than I am, frankly. And he's certainly had more experience. I've referred any number of young men in difficulty to him, if I wasn't able to connect with them. Not everyone responds to a female."_ Her voice was wry. _"Some of them are more stubborn than that."_

"You got that right," he agreed, setting his glass in the dish drainer. "I've got a whole houseful of stubborn young men, and I can't say they respond all that well to a male, either. Hey, don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. Maybe I'm a little overwhelmed, yeah, but..." He laughed. "I'm a lucky father."

 _"They get confused, and they tend to be awkward when they're still growing,"_ came the dry suggestion. _"And you are lucky. I would have dearly liked to have hung onto Noah for another day or two, to be certain he really was all right. I've spoken with Kurt a few times now, and he is an absolute sweetheart, you've done such a good job with him."_

Burt felt an uncharacteristic flush of pride. "He's a good kid," he agreed. "So much like his mother. I'll tell you, all this... the three boys, everything they're doing... I don't know.  _I_  sure as hell couldn't have done it when I was their age. I think I was still trying to figure out how to tie my own tie and keep from flunking algebra when I was sixteen."

She sighed. _"Well, the world moves faster now than it used to. They have to grow up more quickly than you or I did. It's a shame, in some ways, but - they're good boys, Burt. They have the attention they need. Well... Finn has his mother, and Kurt has you, but Noah... I can't help but worry about him."_

"Yeah." Burt thought of the Puck who had left Lima, broken and full of confusion, and the Puck who had returned nine days later, calm and focused and ready to try again. "But I'm thinking he might have... somebody. This Adam character? Puck had me say a few words to him on the phone, and he seems like a nice enough guy. He's doing something for Puck... I don't know. I try not to ask for specifics." 

 _But you did,_  he reminded himself.  _You said you were asking, that you wanted all the details. Even the really gay ones._

 _"Yes. Noah spoke with me about that, at some length. And I spoke to Adam for a few minutes myself, on the telephone. Burt, I... understand... what Adam's done to help Noah. And no, it's not easy to wrap one's mind around, if one isn't used to the concepts involved. I do understand, and I can offer this to you: the important thing, in the end, is that Noah is safe, that Noah is happy, and that he has a good support system around him. The specifics, the details?"_ Tess sighed, heavily. _"They are just sixteen, Burt. If you feel you need those details, you ask for them. Those boys are honest, they love you. And - if you would like... hmmm... more information on those details, please feel free to call me. I can probably fill in the blanks."_ She chuckled. _"And I would be quite startled to find a conversation that makes me uncomfortable, these days."_

"Thanks," Burt said, honestly moved. "I'm - well, sometimes I feel like I'm getting a quick education in some things I never expected to hear about, in relation to my sixteen-year-old son, if you know what I mean. But... yeah. I did ask for details, and I'm trying to be ready to listen to and accept them, as they come up."

_"For your sake, and Kurt's, I am very happy to hear that."_

He mopped his bald head with his sleeve. "It's not easy, I'll tell you. Half the time, when I look at Kurt, I still see the kid who liked to dress in his mom's sparkly evening gowns and ask me to read chapter books to him before bed. That feels like yesterday. And now, I can see the boy he's become - the man - and that little kid is still inside him. It's hard to put the two together, sometimes."

 _"I understand. Kurt doesn't have the easiest path."_ She hesitated again. _"Burt, anything he finds that makes him stronger or more confident, I feel very strongly that he should pursue it. He's a very precious and unique soul, your boy. And he loves you, and trusts you."_

"I know he does," Burt said, feeling the reverberation of Kurt's trust inside his chest. "I feel so lucky he does, believe me."

_"Yes. That's a very rare, and lovely thing. I also recall stressing to Noah the importance of honesty, when we spoke. It is no less important here. When I listen to the stories that some of my boys have told me, over the years, some of the stories that Beau's boys have told..."_

Burt heard her swallow before going on. Her voice had wavered on that last sentence there, and he hated to think of the things she might have heard.

 _"You have something very strong, you and Kurt. He relies on you, Burt. It means the world to him, that you're expressing patience as he tries to find his way, that you're there for him to go back to when he needs. I think that Noah might grow to trust you in that same way, eventually. Now, it is very likely they won't be able to easily articulate the... parameters of their relationship to you, to be able to explain how they are feeling, or why they feel that way. Right now, they are relying on what feels right. You're right there to ensure they aren't coming to harm, emotional or physical. And I'm right here, Burt, to help with that articulation, if needed."_ Her voice was stronger now. Burt could hear the confidence and assurance in her words, and the firm tone.

"Again, that's generous of you." He took the few steps back into his office from the kitchen, and settled heavily in the chair beside his desk. "I think the problem is that I don't even know what to ask for."

 _"You don't need to. Just talking things over usually helps."_ She paused. _"And... forgive me if I'm making any assumptions, Burt, but Carole spoke with me, particularly about Finn, and I think the two of you should have a serious conversation."_

He paused. "Uh, we have been talking about Finn, but... why?"

_"The details are between me and Carole - although I suspect she'd tell you everything she told me, given the opportunity. She may be a resource for you in unexpected ways."_

Burt felt like he should understand what she was saying, but it was like she was speaking another language. All he could do was say, "Thank you."

Tess's voice softened. _"What the boys are exploring, participating in, this is something that should be worked through, slowly and carefully, with deliberation. The boys are going to rush, to make mistakes here and there - but isn't that the way of young people? And they have you, and Carole, to fall back on. I've made all three of them aware that they're to call me with questions. Perhaps..."_

"Perhaps?"

_"Perhaps you might all come down to see me, Burt. You and Carole, and all the boys."_

He frowned, but even as he did, he stood and reached for his calendar, wedged between a photo of Elizabeth and the  _World's Best Dad_  mug on his desk. "I don't know. Would Sarah be welcome in a place like that? She's just a kid."

_"Of course! Burt, Tessera is used by ordinary citizens as a country club as well. There's plenty to do around here - there's a pool, a small gym facility, horses, a sledding hill... If she likes to cook the way Noah does, I'm certain my head chef would love to spend time with her, too. His nieces are about Sarah's age, and he's completely smitten with them, spoils them dreadfully. There are guest rooms just outside my own apartment, in the private wing, it won't be hard at all for you to stay here as a family. Conversations irregardless, it might be a nice vacation for all of you."_

The idea became more appealing the more Tess told him, and he found himself giving in under the force of her persuasion. "A... family vacation? That's not a bad idea. You don't think we'd be too much underfoot? Four kids, plus the two of us..."

_"How would you possibly be underfoot? The private wing alone is twenty-eight thousand square feet, Burt. Three of my managers are in residence in the wing with me, and they have their own family and friends coming and going as well, in the private guest quarters here. And Sarah may still be very young, but the boys aren't exactly children. There's a little theatre here, depending on when you come - there's a small Shakespearean troupe that performs locally, a set of historians and theatre professionals associated with the university."_

"Hey, you just said the magic words. Kurt's going to be all over that." Burt glanced over the appointments and athletic events penciled in on his calendar for the next few months. "When's that happening?"

_"Their next performances are just after Valentine's day, I think it's probably Taming of the Shrew, if you can bear that. I'd have to be in my office to call up the schedule for the rest of the year, or locate my majordomo. And... if it's not too presumptuous, would you mind a suggestion?"_

"Uh - no?" Burt was actually feeling a little overwhelmed, but he wasn't going to give up the conversation now. He took a quiet breath and listened.

 _"I've known Carl Howell for a very long time - he was stationed at Irwin, though not in my unit,"_ Tess said, clearly taking care with her words. _"And it's very evident that he and Finn have formed a relationship. I might suggest that he be here as well, if there are going to be family discussions."_

"Carl." Burt pursed his lips absently, flipping forward to February in his calendar. "Yeah, he and Finn... He's kind of... well, there's a difference in ages between them, isn't there? I mean, he's older than  _me._ I'm not quite sure what to think of that."

 _"Yes. Carole and I have discussed that. And I can assure you,"_ she continued, her tone dry, _"that Carl and I have discussed things at length - particularly in regards to responsibility and good conduct. The details of both conversations, however, are confidential, unless Carole or Carl choose to share them, or indicate to me that they are comfortable with my sharing them with you. That can be discussed between the four of us, as adults, with or without Finn present."_

Burt tried to set his judgment aside. It wasn't a simple matter, no matter what Tess said about Carl. "We might have to do that," he said uneasily. "I'll leave it up to Carole, of course, but... it leaves a bad taste in my mouth, for Finn to be in a romantic relationship with someone so much older. What's the phrase - an unequal power dynamic? How can that be healthy, really? It'd be so easy for a grown man to take advantage - "

Tess was quiet for a moment before gently interrupting Burt. _"I would like you to know that in our discussions, I have strongly advocated for Finn. Carl has a responsibility to me, Burt. I don't intend to let him take advantage, if I can help it. But that is the one of the conversations we might have in person. I am not just speaking of one conversation between Carl and myself, I am speaking of many conversations."_

"I'm not doubting that," Burt said, hesitating. "I just want to make sure Finn doesn't get hurt."

Tess's voice took on a harder tone. _"I have... endeavored to insure that Carl is thinking things through, quite thoroughly, and presented him with a number of concepts and thoughts that I'm quite certain he'd rather not have heard. Yes, it is a difficult situation. But I believe, as with anything, that patience, communication, and honesty will protect not only Finn, but Carl as well."_

Burt thought of the look on Carole's face when she'd told him about Carl, the faith she clearly had in Finn, even in this unusual situation. "I... it's clear to me there's stuff here I don't really get, Tess, about Carl and Finn's relationship. But Carole claims to understand it, and I trust her."

_"You're going to have to come out and discuss the things that you 'don't get,' Burt. There's no reason in the world for you to be in the dark. Either here on the telephone, or in person."_

He sighed and stretched his back, setting the calendar down on his desk. "I just can't imagine trusting Kurt to an older man like that."

 _"Would you like to borrow a chastity belt, perhaps?"_ Her tone was quite dry. _"I'm fairly certain there will be an older man at some point, unless he finds his soulmate more quickly than usual."_

Burt let out a wry laugh. "Yeah, well, I'm just hoping he doesn't inflict it on me until he's a lot older himself. Like, thirty."

_"Burt, I don't think it will matter in the least how old he is, it's not going to change how you feel about him, my dear."_

"Also probably true," Burt acknowledged. "He's always going to be that little boy, in my head. I'm trying hard to remember he's also a young man, too."

Tess chuckled. _"Of course he is. I often struggle to see Carl as a successful professional - I still tend to see him as the young, cocky Lieutenant who washed up into my office years ago. He's grown up, my boy has - I understand. It will never be easy. It's a leap of faith, Burt."_

Burt smiled into the phone. "It's a lot easier to imagine taking it when I'm not making these decisions all on my own. Having Carole with me, and knowing the boys have friends like you... that's a big thing. I'm really grateful."

He heard Tess swallow. _"I am so happy for you. Carole is wonderful, and you are blessed, with your family."_

"Hey, and we'll definitely have to talk more about coming down to visit your place. Tessera, is it? Sounds fantastic."

 _"Yes,"_ she laughed. _"And yes, it's a play on my name, I like to save that story for the tour, though. I do hope you will come, Burt. It would relieve my mind to no end to be able to see those boys, and see that they are all right. Those little monsters of yours have gotten under my skin, I'm afraid."_

"Mine, too." He squinted at the clock and stifled a yawn. "Thanks again for talking so late. I'm an early-to-bed kind of guy, but I'm guessing you're just waking up. I should hit the sack."

 _"Sleep well, Burt. Try."_ She laughed a little, here. _"Try not to worry. Or if you must, at least try and be clear about what you're worrying about. Good night - and thank you for calling."_

Burt replaced the receiver on the hook and let out a deep sigh. It was hard  _not_  to worry, when he knew what kinds of things the boys faced at school every day. He just hoped that with all these people there to support them, they might be able to get through it unscathed.

"Dad?" Burt had barely flipped open the books for the garage before looking up to see Kurt standing in the doorway of his office, hesitating. "I need your help."

Burt pushed his chair back from his desk and waited. "What is it, son?"

Kurt sighed. He looked positively exhausted. "It's Noah. He's... well, he's really missing Adam. A lot. Tonight more than usual, and he hasn't gotten through to talk to him for some reason. It's the first night since they've met that they haven't talked." He leaned heavily on the door frame. "He really needs to see him. This is too early in their relationship for them to be apart."

He laughed a little, shaking his head. "Still blows my mind to hear you guys talking like this about... each other's guys. What can I do?"

"I'm going to LA next week, to visit with Lady Gaga. Me and Finn, and Brad and Timothy." Kurt bit his lip and looked expectantly at his dad.

"Don't remind me," Burt grumbled. Then he realized what Kurt was talking about. "Oh.  _Adam...?"_

"He's going to be at the Screen Actors' Guild Awards in Hollywood that weekend. I thought, maybe, if we could get Noah a ticket, that he could come with us, and see him."

Burt didn't want to be the dad who jumped all over the money when things like this came up, but he couldn't help imagine the numbers in his checking account, dipping down below the safe limit. He shook his head. "Those tickets weren't cheap, Kurt. I don't even know if we can get another ticket this late."

"I know. It's a lot to ask." Kurt's expression was positively pleading. "I'll work extra hours at the garage - whatever I have to do. Noah's had a lot of  _bad_  in his life lately. I just want to give him something good."

 _Groceries from Aldi this month,_  he thought, his mind reaching for possibilities, even as he nodded.  _And I can let the car insurance payment go next month, no late fees there, and... maybe I can manage it._ He called up a web browser window. "Let me see what I can come up with. I'm - " His words cut off as Kurt tackled him around his neck, and he laughed. "Hey, I'm not promising anything! I'll come down to your room in a little while and we'll talk, after I look up plane fare and check our budget for this month."

Kurt let go of the stranglehold on his dad's neck. " _Thank you,_  dad. And - can Noah stay over tonight? Adam hasn't called him back and he's kind of falling apart. He didn't want to ask, but I think he's not going to get any sleep tonight if I -"

"All  _right,_  Kurt. Can you give me a minute, here?" He waved Kurt away. "Go take care of him - whatever you do. I'll make a lot of noise when I come downstairs."

Both he and Kurt were smiling as he went back to his computer. Burt already knew he'd be paying whatever goddamn fee he needed to get the ticket for Puck.  _A_ _nything that he finds that makes him stronger or more confident... Kurt should have that. Both he and Puck should._

But as he went through the process of booking the ticket, which did indeed cost over a hundred dollars more than they'd originally paid for Finn and Kurt's tickets - and he gritted his teeth at the prospect of weeks of tuna and mac & cheese for dinner in the coming month as he clicked the  _Buy Ticket_  button - the worry started to creep back up his arms and into his neck, making his shoulders tense all over again.  _Kurt and Finn in Los Angeles. Puck with Adam. Jesus Christ._  He paused to bury his face in his hands before picking up his phone and calling Carole.

"Please tell me I'm not insane," he moaned, before she could even say a word. "I just bought Puck a ticket to Los Angeles so he can hook up with his goddamn boyfriend. The rock star one."

 _"Sorry, honey,"_ she said, after a moment. At least she sounded amused, not horrified. _"That definitely qualifies as insane. And very sweet."_

He laid his head on the desk. "I don't think I can handle this on my own, Carole. I just talked with Tess, and she told me all kinds of things that  _sounded_  reassuring until she hung up, and now... I don't even know."

 _"Do you want me to come over?"_ Her offer was genuine, he knew.

"No, it's all right - you don't need to leave Finn alone there. I'll be okay. I think."

She made a pensive humming noise. _"Maybe you need more time to talk with Tess. She's very calming. She mentioned that Tessera is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays. Why don't you invite her up for a few days?"_

There was an idea. "You think she'd come?"

_"I think she dotes on Puck and has a particular affection for Kurt. And her history with Carl... I could use some reassurance in that area, myself. Do you want me to call her?"_

Burt was already sitting straighter in his chair. "No, I've got it. Hey..." He paused. "You're amazing, you know that?"

 _"Sure. I could stand to hear it more often, though._ " She was smiling. _"I love you."_

"I love you, too. I'm going to head downstairs and inform my son just how insane his old man really is, and then I'll give Tess a call back. And then I think I'll be banging my head on my desk a little."

Carole laughed. _"Try not to give yourself a concussion."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn, Kurt and Puck discuss the current state of their relationship and all the others in their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me far, far too long to write this chapter, but I was pleased to finish it at the top of a 38 story building in New York City. 
> 
> Warnings here for angst, D/s and threesome sex. Our boys needed some time to reconnect. 
> 
> Enjoy.  
> -amy

When Finn opened the garage door to Kurt's basement, he could hear Kurt playing the piano. It wasn't such an uncommon occurrence since Kurt started taking piano lessons with Brad, but Finn didn't think he'd heard this particular song before.

Puck was seated on the green couch, holding a piece of paper. Finn approached him tentatively. "Hey," he said.

Puck glanced up, then back down at the paper. "Hey."

They hadn't said more than a few words to one another since Puck sang that Adam song for Glee, in eyeliner. It was starting to feel like such a long time to be distant, and for such a stupid reason, that Finn was tempted to just reach out his hand and say,  _We cool?_  But then he remembered Puck's stony expression when he said  _Get the fuck out of here... you and your girlfriend,_  and he kept his hand to himself.

He did sit on the other arm of the couch, though, listening to Kurt, and eventually said, "What's that?"

Puck held out the piece of paper. Finn realized, with a start, that there were tears in Puck's eyes. "This is... a plane ticket. To Los Angeles. Leaving Friday."

Finn found himself suddenly grinning. "Oh, my god, Puck... no shit? You're going, too? How did that happen? Did Adam send you the ticket?"

"No." Puck resisted, but finally he smiled, too, staring at his lap. "Burt got it for me."

Finn's voice faltered. "Burt got you a ticket to LA? To see... Adam?"

"Yeah, Kurt asked him to." Puck still wasn't looking at him, and his voice was hoarse. "Said I needed it."

Finn didn't know what to say. He felt a whole range of conflicting emotions. The predominant one was relief.  _Puck does need it. He has Kurt, but he needs Adam, too, to give him what he needs._  On the heels of that awareness was shame, that  _he'd_  promised to give Puck what he needed, and then he'd failed him. And following quickly after  _that,_  like a rolling cloud of dust after a herd of wild horses, was sudden wild hope.

Because of  _Patrick._ Patrick, the boy in Irene's coffeeshop. Finn thought he might want... what Puck wanted. Or something like it, anyway. And for the first time since Puck had left, Finn thought, maybe, he  _might_  be able to give it to somebody again. Not only wanted to, but felt that he might be able to  _do_  it.  _Maybe... maybe that means I could give it to Puck again, too._

"I'm so glad you get to come along," Finn said. Puck gave him a sidelong glance.

"Yeah? 'Cause I thought maybe you'd just as soon stay home. Have a whole fucking weekend with Carl and  _Rachel._ " Puck's spiteful tone made Finn's stomach turn over. "Isn't that what you really want?"

"No," said Finn slowly. "I want to go to LA to meet Lady Gaga, with Kurt and Brad and Timmy. And you."

Puck's jaw clenched. "Having a hard time believing that. Because we never see you anymore. Me, or Kurt."

Finn watched him grind his teeth, wanted to tell him  _Stop,_ but he really didn't feel up to seeing his Voice fail so spectacularly yet again. He made an abortive gesture to touch Puck's knee, and ended up just leaning on his arm on the couch at an awkward angle.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know I've got a lot going on."

Suddenly he wanted so much to tell Puck all about Patrick, to say  _I met a boy in Columbus, and it's not a sex thing, but he totally wants me to Top him, and I really want to. And I'm freaking out about it._  But all he could manage was, "Me and Carl, we went to Columbus to this open mic."

Puck sounded completely uninterested. "Yeah, you said. Same one as last week?"

"Yeah. We sang some songs, me and Carl. One, uh, Indigo Girls song, from the CD I listened to when you were..."

Kurt's piano suddenly cut off. A minute later, Kurt was standing there, glaring at him from across the room, his hands on his hips.

"What, were we too loud?" Finn said. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"No," he said testily. "You're not loud enough. Jesus Christ, can't you just  _yell_  at each other and get it over with?"

Finn shook his head miserably. "You know I can't do that. Not anymore. Not after what happened."

"After what happened, Finn?" Kurt strode over to the couch and put a protective hand on Puck's shoulder. "After you hit your best friend? After he left town? After you found  _your_  Top?" His glare intensified. "Or after you started adding new relationships and subtracting the old ones?"

"I didn't," Finn protested, but it was weak at best. There wasn't anything he could say that would stand up to scrutiny, all the way down to the stupid boyfriend-girlfriend calendar in Finn's locker. And what were they going to say about  _Patrick?_ It didn't matter he wasn't anything like a boyfriend.  _It's just more time away from home_. He looked away.

"Be honest, Finn," Kurt said, his voice tight. "Do you want to break up with us?"

"What? No!" Finn stared at him in astonishment. "God, Kurt, are you serious?"

Kurt tightened his hand on Puck, and his eyes closed. "I just have to know."

Finn stood, bumping his shin on the coffee table, and came around to the back of the couch as quickly as he could, reaching out for Kurt. Puck didn't turn to face them, and even as Kurt's hand left Puck's shoulder to clutch at Finn's back, Finn replaced it with his own, gripping Puck tightly. He could feel Kurt shaking.

"Baby, no," he said again, attempting to be soothing in the face of his own desperation. "You and Puck, you're my family, remember? I'm not giving up just because things are hard."

"There are all kinds of ways to give up," Kurt whispered fiercely. He wasn't letting go, though, and Finn figured that was a good sign. "I know you love Carl, and… I want you to have that, I really do. But I  _miss_  you."

Finn nodded against Kurt's hair, holding his head close to his chest, feeling troubled. "Okay. Yeah. I miss you, too. Both of you."

"Hell of a way to show it," muttered Puck, but he reached up and touched Finn's hand on his shoulder, interlacing their fingers. Finn gave them a squeeze, casting around for something he could do to make it right.

"Can we… let's go in your room, Kurt, and sit on your bed, the three of us. And talk."

Kurt nodded, but Puck hung back when Finn tried to tug him to his feet. "Talk about what?" he said, his face closed and mistrustful.

"All the stuff that's going on. Hell, the trip to California. That's going to be coming up in just a few days." Finn felt Kurt stiffen. He looked more closely at him. "Maybe you're feeling… worried about it?"

"Something like that," he murmured. "Come on, Noah. It'll be fine."

Puck stood and followed them silently into Kurt's room. While Finn and Kurt propped themselves up against the wall, he sat in the corner of the bed, as far away from the two of them as he could get. Puck hugged his arms around his knees and glared at him stonily, still clutching the ticket. "All right. Go ahead. Talk. You first, since you seem to have so much to talk about."

"Noah," Kurt cautioned, and he dropped into silence. Kurt put a hand on Finn's thigh, and gave him a wan smile. "Start with Rachel."

_Rachel. God._  "Okay," Finn said, running his hand over his forehead. "Rachel… well, you know she thought we were dating. And I figured, what the hell, I can be her pretend boyfriend as well as I used to be Quinn's, but then she said something to me about being honest, and… I couldn't do it anymore. I told her I didn't want to be her boyfriend."

"You didn't tell her why, though." Puck raised an eyebrow.

"Not at first," he said.

"You - you  _told her?_ " Kurt was aghast. "What the hell, Finn? You know what that means for us – she's never going to be able to keep it a secret!"

"No, she said she wouldn't say anything to anyone," he insisted. "You're just… she wants to understand. About us, and about everything. She just needs time. It's all a big shock. She had no idea I was gay."

"Yeah, and you know what, Finn?" Kurt shook his head in irritation. " _Gay_  guys don't date girls."

"I'm trying to follow what my heart says to do," Finn said stubbornly, trying not to feel the sting. "I know she's a girl. But I feel something, when we sing together. It's not pretend."

"Hey, it's okay," said Puck, surprising him. He moved close enough to brush Finn's knee with his own. "You don't have to explain your feelings. And you don't have to use any names for yourself you don't want to use."

Kurt closed his eyes briefly, rubbing his forehead. "Fine," he said. "Yes. I understand. I'm just trying to reconcile this thing with Rachel, and the things you said you felt about boys. About  _me."_

Finn kissed his forehead, and Kurt allowed himself to be kissed. "I still love you," he said. "Whatever Rachel and I feel, it doesn't change that. And anyway, she doesn't want to date me anymore."

"Yeah. This thing with the guy from Vocal Adrenaline… Jesse somebody?" Puck grimaced. "Bad news. I know players, because I was one. Even Shelby said he and Rachel shouldn't go out."

"Shelby?" Finn said, puzzled. Kurt sighed, but Puck went on, his voice alight with new tension.

"She's the coach of Vocal Adrenaline, over at Carmel? We saw her at Toby's this weekend, and...  _dude._  She was at Carl's."

"Noah!" Kurt hissed. "What does it mean to keep something a  _secret?"_

Puck looked wounded. "Hey, I thought we were talking. Getting it all out in the open. I'm not supposed to keep secrets from Finn. So… yeah, I saw her at his office, back before I left for Santa Fe. And she saw me, too. She totally thinks I'm going to squeal, even though I told her I wouldn't say anything to anyone."

"Because you're such a perfect example of virtuous silence," said Kurt, rolling his eyes.

"Because I said I wouldn't," Puck shot back. "And I won't, not to anyone else. But she's bribing me with dinner." He shrugged. "Should be interesting. And maybe I can get some information while I'm there about this Jesse guy, because I don't trust him."

"Well, she said she wasn't going to see him anymore," Kurt said.

Finn didn't reply to that, knowing he'd have to lie, and if he was unwilling to betray Rachel's trust, staying silent was the only thing he could do.

Kurt turned toward him. "So, you and Rachel. You're… what? Friends?"

"Maybe," Finn said. "Trying to be. Honestly, or as honestly as I can be. I… I want to tell her as much as I can. Not about Adam, or Carl, I know, but… everything else."

Puck looked thoughtful, but Kurt just winced. "Everything else? Finn, you really think she can handle that?"

"Yeah," he said. "I think, at the very least, our friendship could use some honest communication. Hard stuff. Rachel can tolerate that. She's pretty tough."

"Well, I guess I'll have to trust you on that one." Kurt sighed, moving a little closer to Finn's side. Finn put an arm around him and hugged him. "And things with Carl, they're… fine?"

An image came into Finn's mind of the last time he and Carl had been together, doing things on his bed that were not quite sex, but were still a hundred percent satisfying, and which definitely fell comfortably into the realm of  _fine._  "Yeah," he said again, this time with a little smile. "He's still making us go slow. It's been… hard. And shut up." He hit Puck on the knee when he snickered. " _Hard_  to be… the way he wants me to be."

"Submitting to him, you mean?" Kurt said, and after a moment, Finn nodded. "But… you want that, right?"

He nodded again. "I do, but I'm still having a tough time with it."

"I'm guessing we can both relate to that." Kurt patted Finn's chest. "You'll manage. I know he'll take care of you."

Finn didn't even know how to respond to that. Then he suddenly thought of Patrick. "Uh," he said, and took a deep breath. "There's… something else."

At his change in tone, both boys drew closer to him, Puck putting a hand on his foot, and Kurt rubbing gentle circles on his chest. "Okay," Kurt said. "Go ahead. We're listening."

He laughed shakily. "You don't even know what it  _is."_

"Doesn't matter," Puck said stolidly. "Whatever. Fuck it. Family, right?"

Finn found himself blinking away tears, caught between their twin expressions of support and love. "Yeah – I just can't believe you really want to hear about all this."

"I might have a little trouble with it, but it doesn't mean I don't want to hear it," Kurt said. "Now come on; the suspense is killing me."

"There's a boy in Columbus," he said quickly, before he could keep any of it back. "At the coffeehouse, where Carl and I go. Patrick, the one who was singing.  And he needs a Top. And I think… I think I can do it."

"Oh… Finn," Kurt murmured, and Finn watched Puck take his hand back.

"You're fucking kidding me," he said harshly.

"I didn't think I even was going to be able to do that anymore," Finn tried to explain, imploring Puck silently to  _look at me, just look at me_ , but Puck's eyes were fixed firmly on something across the room _._  "I didn't think I could do it at all. But Carl said… Carl said I needed to try, if Patrick wanted it, and if I wanted to give it. And I think I do."

"Patrick, huh?" He sounded furious. "You fucking him, too?"

" _No,"_ Finn shouted, and Kurt shushed him. He tried to modulate his voice. "It's not about the sex. Like Carl said, it's not always."

"It is for  _me,"_  said Puck. He punched Kurt's pillow in frustration. "And you can quote Carl to me all you want, because I know it always was for you, too, Finn."

Finn glanced at Kurt, who looked torn, then back to Puck. He cleared his throat, and very quietly said, in his most directive Voice, "Look at me."

Puck flinched, but he kept his eyes on the floor.

"Yeah," Finn said, the bitterness seeping out of him. "That's what I thought. You don't really want it from me anyway. You don't even listen to me anymore.  What does it matter who else gets it from me?"

Puck was silent. This time Finn was the one to reach out and touch his knee. "Dude, I  _love you._  You've been my best friend since second grade. And whatever else we were… it's different now. Doesn't mean I'm not going to still want to give it."  _Still want to give it to you,_  he couldn't say. "And now I think I might… might be able to do it again, with Patrick."

Kurt was sitting very still, and his hand tightened on Finn's. "You're taking on a lot," he said. "Carl thinks this is okay?"

"He didn't at first," he said. "But he thinks I need it. Just like Puck needs Adam." He watched Kurt go red at that, and he paused, looking from him to Puck in confusion. "What is it? You… Puck, you are still… with Adam, right?"

"Yeah." Puck sighed. His anger had vanished. He finally looked up, but it was at Kurt. "Baby, you've got to explain it to him."

To Finn's surprise, Kurt shook his head, covering his face. "I can't," he said.

When Kurt was scared like that, it didn't matter whatever else was happening; he just needed to be there for him. Finn put his arms around him and held him close, waiting for him to unfold. "You listened to me," Finn said. "Now let me listen to you. What's going on? You… and Adam?" Then, hearing what he'd said: "Baby, you and  _Adam?"_

"I don't know," Kurt moaned into Finn's shirt. "But you have no idea how confusing it is to… to have these feelings for somebody I've  _never met."_

"I bet." He cast his eyes to Puck, who was patiently watching Kurt. "You knew about this? You and Adam, you talked about it?"

"Yeah," Puck said. He smiled then, and it was startlingly clear and calm. "I love him. Both of them. And now – fuck, Finn, now I get to go to L.A. and see him, and Kurt's going to be there, too. That's like… tiramisu  _and_  chocolate mousse."

Finn had to laugh. "I did kind of see it coming," he said. Kurt made a grumbling noise in response, and he held him tighter. "What, all those phone calls, and you don't think I'm going to guess?"

"Friends," Kurt protested. "We were just  _friends._ "

"And now?" Finn prompted, feeling his baby squirm. He grinned. "Friends;  _sure._  Yeah. Well… I'm happy for you, I guess."

Kurt twisted his head up to face Finn. He was still red. "I know you don't like him."

Finn shook his head. "I don't  _know_  him. But everybody else seems to have gotten Adam Lambert fever, so… I'll have to keep an open mind." He cupped Kurt's face and drew him up for a reluctant kiss. "Come on, baby. It's fine. Whatever happens, just… don't try to hide it from me."

"I won't. I feel like we've all been ignoring each other all week, and I hate it." Kurt reached for Puck's hand, and he took it, glancing up at Finn. "I  _hate_  it."

Finn watched as Puck pursed his lips, then heaved a sigh, and put his other hand on Finn's. "Okay," he said. "I hate it too, all right? And… whatever, Finn, you can do anything you fucking want with Berry, and Carl, and the starting lineup for the whole basketball team for all I care. I miss you."

Finn reached out, curling a hand around Puck's neck, and pulled him in until their foreheads touched. He could feel the tension pulsing between the two of them like a heat wave. "I miss you, man," he whispered. "So much."

Then Puck was leaning forward on his knees, cupping Finn's face, kissing him, and the wave crashed down on both of them, every bit of confusion and uncertainty transformed into lust. Kurt moaned in relief. He let Puck's hand go, stroking along the back of Finn's thigh, encouraging their connection.

"God, so hot." Kurt watched them with hungry eyes as Puck tore his own shirt off, then tugged desperately at Finn's.

"You, in two minutes, fucking me," Puck insisted, and Finn felt his body respond  _very_  enthusiastically to that. He unzipped his jeans and lifted himself off the bed, twisting and kicking them to the floor. Even before he could get his boxers all the way off, Kurt was passing him the lube.

"Let me get you ready for him," he heard Kurt say, his voice low and rougher than usual. "And I'll be here, right behind you… when you're ready for me."

Finn wasn't sure how he kept moving with that idea present in his mind, but he somehow managed to kneel over Puck, stretched out on his back, and then spread concentric circles of lube-slick pressure into his waiting ass. He listened to Puck's enthusiastic moans, knowing he wouldn't have to touch his cock for Puck to enjoy the activity, but wanting so much to feel the heat of him in his hand.

"Come on, man," Puck groaned, his hips snapping forward. "Enough fucking around."

"I don't know how I feel about you telling me what to do," Finn teased, laughing at Puck's response. He bucked forward at Kurt's touch, thrusting several times into the curve of his slippery hand, and then nudged against Puck's body with anticipation.

"That's it." Kurt's encouragement fired him as much as the slickness, or the sight of Puck opening up for him. He reached forward and took Puck's hips in his hands, letting Kurt guide him inside. They both gasped at the same time. "God, you feel so good."

Puck's eyes opened, looking up into his. There was a challenge there. He wasn't submitting to Finn anymore, not the way he had in the fall - but there was still trust, and Finn could see love there, too. And even though Finn wasn't at all sure he deserved either one, he was so grateful to see them both. "You want this, huh? With me?"

"Yeah, man," he said softly, reaching for Puck's face. There was no question he was where he wanted to be. "With you." He might need other things, other people - but this experience with Kurt and Puck... that was irreplaceable. "I'm sorry if you doubted that."

Kurt stroked a patient hand up Finn's back, as he leaned over Puck. Kurt never hurried; he always took his time loving Finn, and listened to what he needed. In that moment, he resolved never to take that for granted. "No, you're right," Kurt murmured. "We're family. I've got to trust in that."

Even filtered through the passion and pleasure of the moment, Finn felt tears choking his throat. "You won't lose me," he promised, reveling in Puck's encouraging sounds. "I'm not going anywhere, no matter what."

Finn could hear Puck's breathing getting more ragged, his cries growing louder and more insistent, but his own rhythm faltered and stalled when he felt Kurt thrust against him from behind. "Oh,  _god,_ Kurt - "

"Let me," Kurt said, tense and shaking a little, but waiting for Finn's permission before moving any further. Finn had to admire his self-control. "Please."

Finn couldn't do anything more than nod. He felt Kurt's steady pressure, opening him slowly, without any more than incidental lube. It was just the way he liked it, but it had to be slow, or he knew from experience it would  _hurt_  afterwards. Right now, though, it didn't feel anything other than fantastic, caught between Puck and Kurt this way.

"I want to fuck you, like this," Finn muttered to Puck, watching his eyes roll up into his head as Kurt leaned their collective weight into him. The push of Kurt inside him, and Puck taking it - Finn knew he wasn't going to last much longer. "You, in Kurt, and me on top... just like this."

He gathered Puck up in his arms, letting his legs take Kurt's weight. He cherished the moment, the fragile trust that hovered between them, and as Puck began to come apart, he kissed him deeply, hoping with every bit of himself that Puck could tell just how he felt.  _I love you, and you're still a part of me.  Even if you're changing -- even if I am, too -- I still need you._

Finn was still kissing him when Kurt gripped Finn's hips and began a steady rhythm, filling him with long, slow strokes. With every one, Finn thrust further into Puck's body. Finn knew him well enough to know he didn't have to ask Puck if it was too much. Puck didn't have a  _too much_  setting.

_Maybe just a_ _ **not enough**_ _setting,_  he thought sadly.  _He needs more._

"You need what Adam can give you," he whispered into Puck's ear. He felt Puck nod, nearly boneless underneath him, as Kurt continued his penetration. "And you need it from Kurt. What about from - from me?"

"I don't know," he heard Puck whisper back, sounding agonized. "It's not the same as it was, Finn, but  _fuck_ , that feels so good, don't stop, don't stop..."

"Not doing anything," Finn said, kissing his neck. "It's all Kurt. And I'm not telling, I'm just asking. Do you want it from me?"

"I don't  _know,"_ Puck repeated. He sounded more panicked now, his eyes contorted with fear and confusion. Finn sighed, and ran a tentative hand over his head.

"It's okay." He glanced behind him to see Kurt's face set with concentration, and two lines of tears streaking his pale, perfect cheeks. "You don't have to know. I'm still here."

"Do you feel me, sweetheart?" Kurt's voice was intense. He wasn't speeding up, but his movement was growing more deliberate, more focused. "You feel me taking what I want?"

"K-Kurt," Puck stuttered. Finn couldn't resist a moan, and he nearly lost it when Puck echoed it. Kurt took another deep breath; he was close, too. Even Kurt had his limits. Finn knew the magical staying power that came upon him when he was satisfying one of his boys' needs, how it seemed like he could last forever - until it snuck up on him, and he just needed to  _take._

_And here I am, being taken by one of my boys,_  he thought, bemused.  _And I'm inside the guy who's been submitting to me all my life, and he's not feeling one shred of that energy. Things do change._

He consciously relaxed on top of Puck, feeling every bit of that amazing body underneath him. Then he reached back, as best as he could, and reached for Kurt's hand. "Go on, baby," he urged. "Take what you need from him. I want to feel it."

Kurt didn't resist. He gave in with a cry, slamming into Finn as he gave up all pretense of control. It wasn't just about being between Kurt and Puck as they loved one another. It was being present to all the things that went into what made them who they were, the attraction and desire and need, the intricate dance of give and take. Finn had always been bowled over by this thing they'd created in just a few short months, and to have front row seats to their connection - it was nothing short of breathtaking. All he could do was let it wash over him.

"You're  _mine,"_  Kurt growled, the pressure of his hips driving Finn deeper into Puck. It was almost like he weren't there at all, except of course he was, his whole body was between them, his heat and flesh adding a dimension he couldn't have described before encountering it. "Tell me."

"Yours, god," Puck groaned, "I'm so fucking yours."

Finn couldn't have said which of the three of them came first, but after several long moments in which their hard breathing eased, it was Puck who shifted the pile of their bodies. To Finn's surprise, Puck reached for him, kissing him, searching his eyes uncertainly. "You okay, man?"

Finn nodded. "That was... just, wow." He felt a lessening of pressure as Kurt moved off of him, then a twinge of passing soreness. He knew it would get worse before it got better, but it had been so worth it.

Puck nodded, clearly relieved. He wormed his way out from underneath them, stretching his stiff legs, and took Kurt's fuzzy white robe off the back of the door. "I need something to drink – back in five with water." He shut the door quietly behind him.

Finn felt Kurt's lips on his ear from behind. "He could have poured a glass in the bathroom."

"Yeah. I guess he was leaving us alone to talk."

Kurt helped him roll over, noting Finn's wince, and he bundled himself into Finn's arms. They clutched at each other; Finn wasn't sure which of them was comforting the other, exactly. He listened to Kurt's sigh.

"I wasn't sure if you'd be upset by that. Being there, when we were... like that. If you're not doing it, with him, I wasn't sure if that would be too much."

Finn shrugged. "I was there a couple weeks ago, when you were spanking him. Why would this be too much?"

" _Was_  it too much?"

He shrugged again. "I don't think so. He didn't think so. And... god, Kurt, honestly, I think I'm going to take what I can get at this point, you know?" The tears pricked his eyes again, but he fought them. The last thing he wanted was to be crying when Puck came back.  _He already thinks I'm weak and useless._

Kurt turned his head and pressed a kiss on his cheek. "Well... thank you. I miss you so much, and this was just right for me, to see the two of you together again, and for me to have you both."

"You deserve it, Kurt," Finn whispered. "I - "

Puck slipped back in through the door, juggling three full glasses of water. He smiled at the two of them, and set the glasses on the nightstand before hanging up Kurt's robe and taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Come here," Kurt said, reaching for him, but Puck shook his head. Finn could feel the tension locking his throat closed.

"One more thing I didn't say, before, and I figured, this is the time, huh?" He put a hand on Finn's shoulder, stroking it gently. The contact was so welcome, Finn didn't care how tentative it was.

"Anything, sweetheart." Kurt curled his hand around Puck's hip, holding on.

Puck laughed quietly. "You guys probably already think I'm crazy for dreaming about my daughter. I'm still doing it, though, and... they're getting more detailed. Like, I can remember more of them, and... I'm having these conversations with her, and sometimes we start one one night, and the next night I get to keep going?" He shook his head. "Tess said it's just me, getting to know this possible future, that it's not real, but... it sure as fuck feels real."

After what they'd just done, it seemed kind of ridiculous to feel worried about a few touches, but Finn felt like if he did the wrong thing, Puck might just disappear.  _He could. He could go back to his apartment, and you won't get to sleep with him tonight, and..._  He swallowed the panic. "I guess it couldn't be  _real,"_  he said, "but maybe it could be... something. Right?"

Kurt was thoughtfully stroking Puck's chest. "There are all kinds of things we don't understand about how the human brain works. I don't think we can discount any of it. Does it really matter, if it's real or not? We won't know until... until she's born, anyway."

Puck nodded, his smile returning. "Just a couple months, now. Uh... but that's not really all of it." He took a deep breath. "And it's even more crazy. The boy? From the club?"

They both nodded. Neither of them had seen the boy, but Finn had heard Puck describe him enough times now to feel like he might know him, somehow.

"He's in my dreams, too. He's... taking care of her, usually. Like, a dad."

Finn took his hand. Puck didn't use the word  _dad_  to describe himself. It was always  _papa._  "You guys are together?"

Puck nodded. "Something like that. And it's always just us. When she can talk, she talks about Kurt, and you, Finn. But you're never there."

Kurt seemed completely unconcerned. "That makes sense, if it's what Tess said it was. You're getting to know them both. You already know us, so..."

"Yeah, maybe?" Puck sighed, and this time when Kurt opened the covers, he crawled inside, curling up in the space between the edge of the bed and Kurt's body. Finn laid a hand on Kurt's hip from behind them.

"Don't worry about it," Kurt said, soothingly. "Whatever it is, we'll find out. All of us, together."

"Yeah?" It about broke Finn to hear Puck like that, so uncertain and scared, and to not be able to do anything about it, but he let Kurt take care of it, to be what Puck needed. Then he thought about Patrick, looking scared like that, needing him.  _I can do it,_  he wanted to say to Puck,  _if you'd only let me.  If only you'd take a chance on me again, I won't let you down this time._

"Yeah," Finn said, squeezing Kurt's hip. He felt Kurt tighten his arms around Puck. They slept like that, and as far as Finn could tell, none of them had any dreams.

* * *

Burt didn't say a word about Finn spending the night the next morning at breakfast. The three boys and Sarah took up all the spots at the dining table, so Burt ate in the kitchen.

"We need a bigger table," Sarah said, swinging her legs across to kick Finn. He knew this meant she was happy to see him. He kicked her back and grinned, passing the cereal box.

"We need a bigger  _house,"_  Kurt said, glancing at the kitchen. "If we're sticking together, it's going to get a lot crowded in about three months."

"If?" Sarah scoffed. "You're joking, right?"

Puck grinned into his English muffin. "Yeah, Kurt, come on. After all the crap we've gone through, there's no way we're going to give up now."

Kurt's smile fed something inside Finn. Seeing him happy like that - it was enough. It was. That, and Puck's familiar bravado. "This can be home, for now," he said. "We can deal with being crowded. And a baby doesn't take up too much more room, huh?"

"Never lived with a baby," Puck shrugged, sipping his juice. "Guess we'll know for sure when she gets here."

"Guess so," Finn agreed, and watched Puck's shoulders settle a little more. He smiled privately to himself.  _Stealth Topping. Okay, I can figure this out._

While they washed the dishes, Finn found himself humming the tune that Kurt had been playing on the piano the night before. Kurt laughed, looking embarrassed. "Of all the things to get stuck in your head, Finn," he said, setting his bowl in the dish drainer.

"I don't mind," Finn said. "It's nice."

"Yeah..." Kurt paused, laying his head on Finn's shoulder. "It's... it's mine."

"Yours?" Finn looked at Kurt in confusion, then set the sponge down. "You mean, you wrote it?"

Kurt nodded, his cheeks pink. "Brad's been trying to get me to share some of my compositions with him, but I'm not sure I can. I thought, if I could play them here, with all of you listening, maybe I could do it for him. Or..." He went silent.

Finn waited for the  _or,_  but Kurt didn't say anything more. He dried his hands on the towel and took him in his arms, holding him tight until Kurt sighed.

"I love hearing you play," Finn told him, nuzzling his head. "I don't care what it is. But knowing you wrote that, that's even better."

Kurt didn't respond. Finn let him lean back, looking into his eyes. He realized, with a start, that Kurt was taller now.  _When had that happened?_

"Even if..." Kurt glanced away. "If it's not for you?"

Finn turned that over in his head for a long moment, trying to be honest. "It kind of hurts," he said. "But it feels good, too, knowing it's for someone else you love." He touched Kurt's hair, trying not to mess up the style. "Who's it for?"

"Adam," he whispered.

Finn nodded, breathing through the hurt. He kissed his cheek. "It's okay, baby. You get to have everything you want. I'm still here, and I know you love me."

"I really do," Kurt said, gripping Finn's arms. He looked a little desperate, and Finn kissed him again, trying to calm him. "I'm not trying to replace you. It's not at all like that."

Finn laughed. "Baby... of course it's not. I get it, believe me. It's fine. If there's anybody who should get that, it's me, right?"

Now Kurt smiled, relaxing. "Yeah. All right."

Finn made sure to stop Puck by the door before they walked out. "Hey. Last night..."

Puck watched him warily. "Yeah?"

Finn hugged him, feeling Puck stiffen, then give in.  "Thanks," Finn said. "For trusting me. For telling me how you felt, even if it sucked. I need that, sometimes. I get stuck in what's going on for me, and I forget how much... how much it means, what I already have."

Puck's amazed smile was better than everything they'd done last night put together. "Really?" Finn could hear, in that word, some of the trust they'd once had in each other, and it gave him hope.

"Really," he said. He kissed Puck, once, then let him go. "See you in class, okay?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt talks around his flirtation with Adam. In Glee, they begin their Madonna projects; Kurt is targeted in a very particular way by Karofsky and Rick. Puck exacts his revenge on Rick for what he did. Kurt's consequence leads to unexpected new interactions between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in this chapter for mild bullying, m/m sex and discipline. If you're reading concurrently, or wish to reread, the story of Adam and Kurt, this follows chapter 7 in While We Got the Chance to Say, which can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/788832/chapters/1489429). The [first part of Chapter 8](http://archiveofourown.org/works/788832/chapters/1489495) of that story falls into the space in the center of this chapter, after they eat dinner.
> 
> The unfortunate locker incident mentioned in this chapter happened in [chapter 2 of Bending in the Archer’s Hand](http://archiveofourown.org/works/254675/chapters/400627). 
> 
> Oh, and long ago, I wrote a kind of sequel to the event in this chapter, an AU-ish Donutverse futurefic. You can find it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/244932) (but read this chapter first). 
> 
> Music credits at the end. Enjoy!  
> -amy

Mercedes leaned in at lunch, her arm around Kurt's shoulders, and whistled at the picture on his phone. "Hot. Definitely hot."

"I know," Kurt sighed, holding up the screen and admiring it in profile. "I wish. But I was talking about her last night, and now I can't get her out of my mind. Something about her curves..."

"Sure, if that's your kind of thing." Mercedes shrugged. "But I wouldn't mind giving her a ride."

"What the hell are you guys  _looking_ at?" Tina said, craning her neck. When she saw, she made a face. "Oh. A  _car."_

"Not just any car," Kurt insisted. "A 1964 and a half Mustang convertible. This one's in Caspian Blue. 260 v8, leather interior." He sighed wistfully. "I think I may lose my power of speech."

"Doubtful," Mercedes snorted, with a nudge. "Anyway, you've got no reason to stop talking. You're going to see  _Lady Gaga_  next weekend. It doesn't get much better than that. Are you absolutely losing sleep over it? Are you packed yet? Girl, don't we need to go  _shopping?"_

"Yeah," Kurt said, touching the screen. He really didn't know how to say  _I'm not looking forward to my trip for the reasons you think, anymore._  He didn't know  _what_  to say. After the conversation he'd had with Finn and Noah about being  _honest,_ now here he was with this friendship... possibly more... that he couldn't ever talk about with anyone. He tucked himself back into his maroon hoodie and sighed.

Mercedes cocked her head. "Don't tell me you're having second thoughts. I know you haven't traveled before, Kurt, but really, it's not a -"

"No," he said, setting the phone down. "No, it's not that. It's - complicated. And I don't think I can tell you."

Tina's eyes widened, and she gestured at the exit. "If you need me to go, I can -"

"Either of you," he expanded. "Anyone, really. It's..." He thought hard, biting his lip. "Well... it's this car. I have a - a fantasy, about owning one someday. And now there's a very nice model... that I might get to have. It's rather unexpected."

"You might get to have a car?" Tina said, looking confused, but Mercedes gestured for her to shush.

"This car," she said, gazing at him intently. "It might be in California?"

Kurt closed his eyes. "It might be."

She nodded. "This car's name wouldn't be  _Max,_ would it?"

For a moment, Kurt wasn't sure how to respond. Mercedes' eyebrows went higher on her forehead. She sighed. "Quinn told me something about Puck's boyfriend, Max, from Santa Fe. He's, like, some big shot and nobody can talk about him. Is that him?"

"Yeah," Kurt whispered, feeling stunned. It was almost harder, hearing Mercedes say untruths about Adam. He wanted to stop her and say  _no, no, wait, his name's not Max, it's Adam, and he's the most amazing man... and he invited me to sleep in his bed with him and Noah._ But he knew he couldn't, no matter how much he might want to. "That's... not his real name. But that's who I was talking about."

Tina looked back and forth from Mercedes to Kurt. "This is the guy Puck went to Santa Fe to meet?"

"No, he - he didn't meet him until he got there, and it was just chance. But he's... incredible." He let out a shaky laugh, leaning back in his chair. "He sings. On, uh, on stage. And he has this absolutely unbelievable voice. But Noah can't tell anybody about who he really is."

"And now you, and he...?" Tina looked troubled. "Kurt, you're already in a... complicated relationship. Are you sure you want -"

He let his eyes close again. "Yes. I think so. … I don't know. God... I really  _can't."_

"Hang on, hang on." Mercedes took his hand and took a deep breath. "Puck knows about this, and he's okay with it?"

Kurt thought about what Puck had said to him the night before, when he asked the same question.  _I'm fucking thrilled. Do you get that? You can have anybody you want, I don't care, as long as it makes you happy - but you, and Adam? Other than you and Finn, it's kind of the best thing ever._

"Yes," he said. "He's okay with it."

"And Finn?" She pointed that eyebrow at him. " _He's_  okay, too? Because, yeah, I don't know when I started caring about  _Finn Hudson_ , but..."

"Yes," Kurt repeated, loud enough to startle the girls at the table next to theirs. He brought his volume down. "Yes. He's okay. I... we talked, last night, all of us. But really, nothing's happened, and... I don't even know, yet, what's  _going_ to happen."

"Okay," Mercedes said. Her arms wrapped around him, warm and comforting. He tried not to cry. "This just seems like a lot more stress than you need, Kurt."

That made Tina laugh. "You haven't noticed? I think Kurt thrives on drama."

"True," he admitted. He smiled at both of them. "I hate keeping things from you."

"Yeah, I'm not crazy about it either." Mercedes patted his hand. "But I'll take what you've got. Honestly, Kurt, your life's better than my soap."

Kurt did his best to focus on the ordinary events of school. He took notes in American History - not very good notes, admittedly, but they were probably better than the ones Finn or Noah had taken, so he could at least share them when they studied - and smiled in all the right places at Artie's terrible joke on the way to Glee.

But Mr. Schue threw him for a loop when he wrote the name  _Madonna_ on the board and underlined it with a flourish. "What comes to mind when you see that name?"

"Genius," Rachel declared. Kurt felt himself waking up for the first time that day.

"Icon," he added breathlessly.

"Hall of Fame MILF," Puck added. Kurt kicked the back of his chair, but Puck just smirked.

Mr. Schue nodded. "So, we're all aware of Madonna's musical and cultural significance. Which is why this week your assignment is to come up with a Madonna number."

A chatter of excitement spread through the girls in Glee, while the guys mostly looked stunned. Rachel immediately turned to Kurt, and he responded to her excited smile, feeling the rush of ideas flowing through him. "I don't even know where to start," she whispered, reaching across the risers for his hand. But Puck frowned.

"Mr. Schue," he said, wrinkling his brow, "as a dude, Madonna makes me feel kind of uncomfortable."

"And you didn't feel uncomfortable wearing that eyeliner last week?" Santana muttered under her breath.

Finn glared at Santana and jumped to Puck's defense. It made Kurt feel a little funny to hear him do it, but he smiled at Finn anyway. "Yeah, she's smokin' and everything, but can't some of us do something else? Uh, the guy version of Madonna?"

"Adam Lambert?" Brittany chirped.

Finn choked and turned red. "I was thinking more like Pantera."

Mr. Schue went into a diatribe about treating the girls in Glee with respect, but Kurt listened with only half an ear, nodding vaguely. He'd had a sudden inspiration, all the parts of which were laid out in his head like the scenes of a movie. It probably didn't hurt that he'd seen the Vogue video over four dozen times.  _I know exactly how it will go,_ he thought. When Mr. Schue paused for breath, Kurt raised his hand.

"Mr. Schue," he said, "I don't think we can have an honest conversation about Ms. Ciccone without acknowledging her images are as indelible as her songs. I would like to honor her contributions by tackling a multimedia project. With Mercedes."

She turned around and smiled at him. Rachel looked vaguely hurt to be excluded. Kurt made a mental note to find some way to include her in the project, too.

"Great - go for it, Kurt," Mr. Schue said, waving a magnanimous hand at him.

"I'm still not done." Puck crossed his arms with a wounded pout. Kurt nudged him again with his foot, but he was ignoring him. "No chick intimidates Puckzilla. I just don't think her music translates to show choir."

"Really?" said Rachel. "Well, I, for one, couldn't disagree more. I can think of several songs that translate perfectly - and I'm going to prove it. Who's with me?"

Mr. Schue split the class up into three groups for the rest of the period. One group discussed Rachel's Express Yourself project; Mercedes, Artie and a few others listened to Kurt outline his ideas for the Vogue video experience. The remaining guys - and they were all guys - were with Puck. He was talking about something with fierce concentration, but Kurt couldn't quite hear what it was. By the end of class, Puck's group looked like they had something to work on, judging by the high-fives and grins. Puck came over to Kurt and put a casual arm around his shoulder.

"Multimedia project, huh?" he said, nodding at Kurt's rough storyboard. "Looks pretty awesome, baby."

"Don't try to butter me up," Kurt said briskly. "You were dissing my Madonna. It's not going to end well for you."

"I wasn't," Puck protested. "She's awesome. I just don't think guys' voices are cut out to sing her songs. Uh, except maybe yours." He grinned. "Actually, you'd sound pretty fucking amazing singing that one song, Live to Tell...?"

"Too little, too late," he said. The idea was somewhat compelling, but Kurt waved him away, making shooing motions at the door. "We have costumes and lighting ideas to talk about, sweetheart. Go on; I'll see you at home later."

Puck didn't look very happy about this idea, but he obliged, taking his backpack and heading out behind Finn. Rachel's group had finished by now, and Rachel caught up with Finn on the way out the door, chattering about their choreography.

"You know, I think there might be some tuxedo vests in the costume room that we could alter for the video," Mercedes said, rubbing her chin. "Though I doubt they'd have any that would fit me."

Kurt shook his head. "That doesn't matter, anyway, since you're singing the Madonna part."

"Me?" Mercedes gave him the biggest  _duh_  look. "No way. That part is for you, Kurt. If there was anybody I ever  _wanted_ to sing backup for, it's you."

Kurt felt his cheeks burning, but he smiled. "Please. You're the most insanely talented singer I know, and that includes Miss Wanna-Be Material Girl, Rachel Berry, over there. You've got plenty of Madonna in those lungs of yours."

"But  _you_ sound just like her," Mercedes demurred. "You're meant to sing this. Come, on, Kurt, let's hear it."

Kurt laughed, and leapt into his best imitation of early Madonna.

_Some boys kiss me, some boys hug me_   
_I think they're O.K._   
_If they don't give me proper credit_   
_I just walk away_

_They can beg and they can plead_   
_But they can't see the light, that's right_   
_'Cause the boy with the cold hard cash_   
_Is always Mister Right, 'cause we are -_

"Well, he sure  _sounds_ like a girl," drawled a voice from the hallway, followed by a long, lanky redhead wearing a nasty grin. Kurt felt his smile drop from his face and he took a step back.

"You're interrupting our rehearsal, Rick," Mercedes snapped. "This isn't your classroom."

"Hey, school's over," said Karofsky, emerging from the other doorway. Kurt hadn't even thought to move for the second exit, but it looked like the two hockey players had effectively cut off both routes of escape. "And it's a free country. We're not doing anything wrong."

"Yet," muttered Kurt, eyeing Rick warily. They didn't call him  _Rick the Stick_ for nothing - and it wasn't because he was tall and skinny; it was his speed with maneuvering the puck. His swing could do some damage before either of them could do anything about it.

"I was hoping I might find your  _boyfriend_ ," Karofsky purred. "That would be the one who'd promised to give Rick here a blowjob."

"Fuck that," said Rick, but Karofsky put up a hand, and Rick stayed in the doorway.

"Nobody's giving anybody anything." Kurt hated the way his voice sounded so terrified.  _Strong. Be strong. They won't pay attention if you can just show them you don't care._  But he'd never figured out how to do that. He  _did_  care. He  _was_ scared, and hurt, and so angry he could -

Karofsky took another step, and Kurt grabbed the choir stool beside him, shoving it to the floor with a clatter. "Get the hell out of here!" he shouted. Karofsky raised an eyebrow, glancing back at Rick, and smiled. He came forward.

Mr. Schue emerged from his office. He paused when he saw Karofsky. "Anything I can help you with, David?" His voice was mild, but he wasn't smiling.

"Just stopping in to tell Kurt how much I liked his song," Karofsky replied. He was all sweetness now, his face relaxing. "He's so talented."

"Yeah, he is." Mr. Schue wasn't moving. "I think they said they had some more work to do, so why don't you save the compliments for another time?"

"Sure, Mr. Schuester." Karofsky headed toward Rick, motioning him back into the hallway, and they took off without another word. But Kurt saw Karofsky flash him the peace sign, the obscene gesture that Kurt knew stood for Puck and Finn, and the things they'd done with Kurt in the janitor's closet, months ago. He closed his eyes.

"Thanks," he whispered. He felt Mercedes' hand on his arm.

"Puck told me David's been bullying you, Kurt." Kurt opened his eyes to see the hard expression on Mr. Schue's face. "I thought that had subsided. The business with the locker -"

"No, it's nothing like that," Kurt assured him. He shivered. "They slushied Noah the other day. That's all."

"It's still not okay," Mr. Schue insisted. "If this happens again, I want you to come tell me right away. I won't let them treat you, or any other student, unfairly."

"C'mon, Kurt, let's go look in the costume room," Mercedes said, gathering her things. "Thanks, Mr. Schue."

The hallways were nearly empty, but Kurt found himself glaring at every student who passed them, looking for something to do with the adrenaline inspired by their brief encounter. Mercedes watched him with concern.

"God, I thought maybe it was over," she sighed. Kurt laughed, though it wasn't funny.

"Karofsky's never going to leave me alone," he said flatly. "He hates me."

"He's just a small-minded bigot who's threatened by your glamorous self." She put an arm around Kurt as they walked. "You're not going to let him scare you, now, are you?"

_Every day,_ he wanted to say, but in that moment, it was too much to confess. He put on a brave smile. "No way."

They rummaged through the racks in the costume room. The vests were hopeless, but they found some vintage tuxedo jackets that Kurt thought he could work with. "Brittany's mom is dynamite with a sewing machine," he said, fingering the cheap satin lining. "I'll take them over to her house later this week."

"You need to try this on." Mercedes held one jacket up against Kurt's back, then draped a white length of satin over it. "And this scarf. You could do your hair just like in the video."

He smiled despite himself. "I've got some pomade in my gym locker."

They were giggling on their way down to the locker room, Mercedes carrying an elegant black suit. "That neckline looks just like the dress in Madonna's third costume change," Kurt said. "If we can focus the camera up here, it wouldn't matter if the rest of the outfit wasn't quite right. You need a mirror?"

"The girls' locker room has plenty of mirrors," said Mercedes. "Just yell for me when you're ready, okay?"

An empty men's locker room didn't smell much better than a crowded one, sadly, but Kurt managed to struggle out of his multiple layers while holding his breath. The jacket really was perfect for the video. He gave his bow tie a tug to straighten it and folded the soft satin around his neck. He had to apply even more hair product than usual to get the right look, but even in the glare of the locker room lights, it looked  _good._

"Vogue," he murmured, hearing the faint echo, and smiled.

Kurt poked his head into the girls' locker room. It  _did_ smell better. Completely unfair. "Mercedes? Come see."

Mercedes emerged far enough to ooh and aah over Kurt. "The suit doesn't fit me, though," she said sadly. "Way too tight in the bust. Whoever made this outfit made it for somebody built like you."

"I'm not playing Madonna," Kurt insisted. "It's going to have to be you. Or else we ask Quinn or Rachel or somebody to do it." He grimaced, touching his hair. "I hate to say it, but I'm going to have to wash my hair before I put my own shirt back on. I don't want to think about getting pomade out of Versace."

"I'll hang this back up in the costume room, then," she said, retrieving the tuxedo jacket and white satin scarf from Kurt. "Be right back. We should stop at Consigning Women on the way home to look for more costume ideas."

Kurt took as quick a shower as he could. He hated hearing the open echoes of the room around him. It never felt quite safe to be in there alone, even enclosed in the security of his shower cubicle.

It was completely silent when he came out, but it was clear someone had been there while he'd been showering. For one thing, there were snowy, indistinct footprints on the floor.

For another, all of his clothes were gone, along with his towel.

Kurt slowly approached the red and white pile of neatly folded clothing that had been left in their place. They might be booby-trapped for all he knew. But once he lifted the note off the top of the pile, he knew exactly what the trap was. It was the clothing itself.

_You're so invested in sounding like a girl,_  read the note, in surprisingly neat script.  _I thought you might like to dress like one, too._ On the bench was his wallet and his car keys. His bag was gone.

He hadn't expected Karofsky's writing to be so tidy - or that he'd be able to spell, use grammar or adequately punctuate his sentences. Somehow that made him all the more terrifying. Kurt unfolded the Cheerios uniform and shook it out, trying not to let the feelings of panic choke him.

"Mercedes?" he called, but it came out in a strangled whisper. Still naked, he edged closer to the door, feeling more exposed than he knew what to do with. "Mercedes?" There was no answer. He called as loudly as he could. "Anybody - Mercedes, are you there?"

Still no answer. Kurt thought,  _Hey, at least I'm not in a locker this time,_ and stifled the hysterical laughter that followed. Then he turned back to the pile of clothes and the note, and took a long breath.

He hesitated only a moment longer before struggling into the cheerleading top. The skirt only reached to mid-thigh. Kurt was particularly conscious of the fact that Karofsky hadn't left his underwear.

"You can do this," he muttered, smoothing the pleats.  _You're no stranger to humiliation._

Kurt didn't learn until much later that Rick had crank-called the office to lure Mercedes away from the locker room. He accepted her frantic apology, of course, once she found out what had happened. He wasn't at all upset at her.

At the time, as he exited the boys' locker room wearing the cheerleading uniform, all he could think was:  _This is exactly what Mr. Schue was saying in Glee about the way boys think about girls. That being a girl is shameful. I can't let this be about that, no matter how embarrassed I am, no matter how powerless I feel._

He tipped his chin up, straightened his shoulders, and faced the world as a Cheerio.

* * *

Kurt took a cue from the unfortunate locker incident and resolved to tell Finn first, but Sarah was there when he got home. She just looked him up and down and wrinkled her nose. "You joined the Cheerios?"

"No," he sighed. "I have to change, and I have to find Finn. Is he here?"

"Still finishing up basketball practice," Sarah said. "But Noah's in the kitchen. Are you okay?"

"Not really. I have to - just let me go talk to Noah, all right?"

She let him through without another word, but her expression was clear.  _You're going to explain this to me, right?_ He nodded tiredly, tugging the Cheerios top straight as he moved toward the kitchen. It was far too tight across his shoulders.

Puck was at the stove, stirring a pot with a wooden spoon and moving his hips, chanting:

_If I take you from behind_   
_Push myself into your mind_   
_When you least expect it_   
_Will you try and reject it_   
_If I'm in charge and I treat you like a child_   
_Will you let yourself go wild_   
_Let my mouth go where it wants to -_

He turned, noticed Kurt, and stopped. The spoon fell out of his hand. He just stared for a long, long moment, his mouth slack. Kurt didn't say anything, staring back, watching the expression change on Puck's face from shock to concern to something else he wasn't sure he could identify.

Then Puck crossed the kitchen floor and took Kurt's arms in his strong hands, gripping him a little more tightly than was comfortable. "Tell me," he demanded.

It was too much for him to handle. Kurt felt his control slip away as he closed his eyes and started to cry.

"Baby," Puck said unhappily. He hugged him awkwardly, gingerly, like Kurt might break. Kurt didn't have the heart to say  _you're doing it wrong,_ so he just let him hold him and pat his back while the tears fell. "Hey... what happened? What's with the outfit?"

"You don't want to know," Kurt sniffled, his chest constricting.

"Did you - dude, just  _tell me,_ okay? This isn't funny."

"Damn right it's not  _funny,"_  Kurt hissed. "You think this is a  _joke?_  Fine. I went into the locker room to try on a costume for Glee, and then I showered, and when I came out of the shower my clothes were  _gone._  And Karofsky and Rick left me  _this._ Are you happy?"

Puck pulled away to stare at him again, and his face went hard. It reminded Kurt so much of Mr. Schue's expression in the choir room that he almost laughed. "Those fucking  _pricks,"_  he swore. Then he stormed out of the kitchen, leaving the pot bubbling on the stove. He was still wearing his  _Is that a sausage on my grill, or am I just happy to see you?_ apron. Kurt heard the front door open, then slam closed. A minute later, Puck's truck roared to life, and quickly disappeared.

"Shit," said Kurt. He peered into the pot and put the lid on what appeared to be marinara sauce, turning the stove off. Then he sat at the kitchen table and rested his head in his hands.

When Sarah appeared again in the doorway to the kitchen, he let her lead him downstairs. Without a word, she opened his second drawer and handed him a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. She crossed through their connecting bathroom and into her room, turning on some music as she returned. Kurt had shed the skirt, leaving it on the floor in a heap, something he  _never_ did with clothing, but he hadn't managed to get the tight-fitting top off yet.

"Lemme help you with that." Sarah took his arms over his head and shimmied the shirt off his shoulders. "Damn, Kurt, you've got biceps."

"I know," he said dully. "It's a little weird for me."

"Don't talk to me about weird," she snorted. "Not until you've bled for a week and lived to tell about it."

"Point." He watched her pick up the skirt and the top and fold them reasonably neatly on top of his bureau. Then she paused, picked them up again, and dropped them outside his doorway onto the floor. He wasn't sure how she had realized he couldn't bear to have them in the room with him, but somehow she had.

Then she stood in the doorway and crossed her slender arms. "You're going to eat something, right?"

"I need to talk to Finn," he said. "Can I borrow your phone?"

Finn didn't pick up right away, which may have been because it was Sarah's number, but Kurt thought it might have been because he'd been in the shower following basketball practice. There was something ominous about Finn being in that same locker room following the events of that afternoon. He called back a second time, and Finn picked up then.

"Baby, what's going on?" he said cautiously.

Kurt tried to take an even breath. "Why do you ask?"

"Because Rick came up to me halfway through practice and practically gloated, right in my face. Said he had your bag, your phone. I looked inside it, Kurt. Your clothes... they were in there. Are you okay?"

"No," he said, feeling his bottom lip curling into a grimace. "No. Noah - he's coming after Rick, and Karofsky. You have to stop him. I don't know what he's going to do, but -"

"Kurt." Finn's voice was short and commanding now, and Kurt stopped talking, holding his breath on the sob that threatened to overtake him. "Karofsky - did he hurt you?"

"No. Nobody laid a hand on me. Noah  _can't_ do anything to him, Finn; he's going to get suspended."

Finn ignored his tone of voice and went grim and quiet. "Yeah. He might. I might not stop him, either."

"Finn!"

"Hey, I'll try, but... well, you know how much effect I have on him these days. Can I get your promise that you're not hurt?"

"Just scared, and angry, and..." Kurt gulped. "I need you. Please."

"You're there with Sarah? Can you call your dad, have him come home a little early? My mom's at the hospital until late, but I could..." He heard Finn sigh. "Forget it. I'll be home as soon as I can."

_Home._  Finn seldom called it home. Kurt knew Finn didn't mean his own house, the one with his dad's furniture, with all the memories of their past life. It was this house he meant, Kurt's and his dad's and Sarah's, the one Finn stayed at more often than not these days.  _Our home._  They were small comfort right then, those words, but he hung on to them anyway, something he could clutch to his chest and believe in and hope for.  _Our home._

"Yes," he whispered, "please, come home."

"I will," said Finn. "I love you, Kurt."

Kurt set the phone on his desk and stared at the floor until Sarah came back into his room. She didn't knock.

"Can I call Tatenui now?" she asked. "Or should I try Noah? Because he might actually listen to me, even if he's not gonna listen to Finn."

Kurt didn't bother to ask how Sarah understood Finn and Puck's relationship, because he knew she'd seen plenty over Christmas break, enough to fill in some gaps. Actually, she seemed to get it better than his dad did. He nodded. "Try both of them, but I wouldn't be surprised if Noah doesn't answer. He's got his own vendetta against Rick and Karofsky, and I think he might do something really stupid today."

"Noah's awesome at doing stupid things for what he thinks are good reasons," Sarah agreed. She didn't seem concerned, though, and Kurt didn't have the energy to pursue it. He just nodded, closing his eyes again. This time Sarah pulled him into a hug, and he had never been more grateful for it.

"Don't talk about it," she whispered. "Wait for Finn. Come help me finish dinner. We'll bake chocolate chip cookies if he takes too long."

Kurt might have appreciated Sarah's care more if he hadn't felt so drained. It wasn't like there  _wasn't_  anything good about spending an evening making dinner with Sarah. It was that all of it had the same bland flavor, the same wasteful grey color. He couldn't see the value in any of it. But he let her do her steady best to make the marinara and to put the pasta on to boil, while he sliced the vegetables and sautéed them.

"So - they took your clothes?" Sarah watched him nod, and rolled her eyes. "What, are they twelve? Can't they come up with something better than  _that?"_

"I think Karofsky had a particular message in mind." He set the spatula on the counter, watching the slices of squash sizzle in the pan. "He's trying to make me feel powerless. Which, uh, he does. But I think in this case, he picked the wrong method, because he's trying to do it by implying that girls are somehow... less. And that just pissed me off."

"Of course it did," she declared. "Girls are obnoxious and catty and kind of stupid, but they're not any worse than boys."

Kurt smiled, kissing her cheek. "You've got that right. Boys can be sufficiently obnoxious and catty and stupid all on their own."

His dad got home first, and he was livid. "Kurt, I'm calling the school," he said, slamming his keys down on the table.

Kurt exchanged a glance with Sarah. "Dad, trust me, it's just going to make things worse. I'm not in any danger. They're just messing with me, trying to imply that I'm - that I'm the girl in this relationship." He felt his face go red as he realized what his dad probably thought about that.

"Well, as far as I can tell, there aren't  _any_ girls in your relationship. It seems to me they're humiliating you in front of the whole school." He glared at Kurt. "You want me to sit around and let that happen?"

"No." Kurt put a hand on his dad's arm. "I want you to let me handle it in my own way. And if I need help, or if I feel like I'm in  _any_ danger, believe me, I'll come to you. Okay?"

Burt sat down slowly at the kitchen table. For a moment, Kurt thought that he looked far more tired and confused than he had this morning.  _He looks old,_  thought Kurt.

"I do trust you, Kurt," he said at last. "And I'll stay out of it, for now. But I don't like it."

"You're not the only one who thinks that." Kurt heard the front door open and close. "That might be another one of them, right now."

Sarah gestured at the dining room. "Go on, I'll finish dinner. You can wash dishes for me tonight."

Kurt hurried into the entryway to find both Puck and Finn standing silently. Puck had dirt all over the legs of his jeans, and he looked as sullen and pouty as Kurt had ever seen him. Finn wasn't touching him, but he watched Puck warily, as though he was a firecracker that might blow up at any moment. He had Kurt's messenger bag strapped over his shoulder.

"You gonna tell him?" said Finn. "Because I will, if you don't."

"Fuck you," Puck shot back, glaring at Finn. "It's none of your fucking business."

"Hey!" His dad's bark froze Puck in his steps, and he glanced up to see Burt standing in the doorway, his expression outraged. "You know I won't have language like that in this house."

It seemed for a moment that Puck was going to yell at his dad, but then he looked at Kurt, and seemed to deflate. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Now, can the three of you talk this out without cursing, or hitting one another? I'd like to be sure we all agree that we're on the same side, here. All of us. Because I think we still have enough rooms in this house for the three of you to all get sent to them at the same time."

"It'll be okay, dad," Kurt said, indicating for Puck to precede him down the basement steps. "We'll be back upstairs for dinner."

Finn and Kurt took a seat on the couch, but Puck moved restlessly around the basement room, circling them. Finn passed Kurt's bag over to him, then took his hand. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

"Better," Kurt said. "I'm managing. What happened?"

"I didn't hit him, if that's what you're wondering," Puck grumbled. "Not that I didn't totally want to."

The expression on Finn's face was hard to read. Kurt watched him wrestling with something. "You know Rick's car?"

Kurt did. Rick was very proud of it. "The 1956 Chevy Bel Air. My dad did some custom work on it." He held his breath. "Noah..."

"Britt  _gave_ me the bag of fertilizer," Puck said. "I didn't steal it."

"I don't think she knew what you were going to do with it." Finn's face contorted, and he looked away just as Kurt realized what was going on. Finn was trying not to laugh.

"Noah, what did you  _do?"_ Kurt begged. "Would somebody just tell me?"

Puck crossed his arms and looked obstinate. "I put a little bit in each seat, and some more on all the floors. And on the dash. And I just left it for him to find, when he got out of basketball practice."

Kurt closed his eyes, picturing the scene all too well. "Are you saying you covered Rick's precious baby - the car he works on every chance he gets - in  _shit?"_

"He deserved it," Puck protested. "Tell me he didn't."

Kurt took a deep breath. "Sweetheart... that's not the point." He reached out his hands, and Puck came right over to him, clinging to them like he was going to drown. "You can't make this a he-hurt-me-first revenge match. It's never going to get better. I'm always going to be gay, and they're always going to be jerks."

"Yeah, and I'm always going to kick their asses for wanting to hurt you." Puck wasn't backing down. Kurt just shook his head.

"I can't - I can't deal with this right now, Noah." He touched Puck's face. "Why don't you get out of those dirty clothes and meet us upstairs for dinner."

He nodded silently, and went into Kurt's room to change. As soon as he'd closed the door, Finn offered his arms, and Kurt stumbled back to the couch to sit on his lap, shaking.

"God, Finn," he said, and then started laughing. Once he started, he couldn't stop. Finn held him as tightly as though he were sobbing - and, really, it wasn't all that different.

"It was priceless," Finn whispered, making Kurt laugh harder. "Really. You should have seen Rick's face. I'm just glad Puck had already taken off, or else there really would have been a showdown."

He nodded, wiping his eyes on Finn's t-shirt. "Does he know it was Puck?"

"I guess he's got to. You'd never do anything like that, and I was at practice with him the whole time." Finn kissed him, and then again, and again, over and over again. "Baby... let me just have a minute to freak out, okay? And then I'll be all right."

"Yes," Kurt said, feeling the compression of Finn's fierce embrace. He groaned. "Yes - please."

"When they were threatening Puck in the hallway last week... I just needed for you to be  _safe._ " He gripped Kurt's neck in one hand, and Kurt gasped, tipping his head back. The energy between them was desperate and raw and so necessary. It wasn't like that very often, but Kurt drank it down, filling up on Finn's need to take care of him. He met Finn's wild gaze.

"I'm safe," he promised. "Shaken, but not broken."

The door to Kurt's room opened, and Puck emerged, looking somewhat more subdued in one of Kurt's t-shirts and boxers. He eyed the two of them. "You guys want some time alone?" he muttered.

"No, dork," said Finn, grinning. He held out a hand. Puck made a face, like he smelled something bad, but he came over and took it.

Kurt took the other. Even lopsided and misshapen, it was their circle, still the three of them. He breathed it in.  _Home._

"Thanks for coming back to me," he said, watching Puck struggling, but willing to leave it alone. For now. "Both of you. Let's go have some dinner."

* * *

Once they finished the dishes, Finn kissed him and picked up his bag. Kurt watched him with some trepidation. "You're going… back to your house?"

Finn nodded. "I haven't finished my math, and Carl's been coming down on me about doing my Spanish. I don't think I can slack off this week, especially not with us flying out on Friday. But I'll be here tomorrow night." He nodded at Puck, who was slouched at the dining room table, noodling on his guitar. "Anyway, I think  _he_ probably needs something from you tonight."

Kurt felt a shiver of anxiety. It was hard not to feel inadequate when it was clear that what Puck needed was so much more than he could deliver.  _Thank god he's going to see Adam in five days._ "You're probably right," was all he said. He didn't want Finn to worry.

Finn gave him a little wave. He stopped next to Puck on his way out, speaking quietly to him. Puck didn't respond, but he didn't say anything nasty, either, which at this point might be all Kurt could expect from him. Then he disappeared, and the front door opened, closed.

It was quiet in the kitchen. Kurt stayed there for a few minutes, listening to Kurt playing a song on his guitar. Under his breath, he sang along:

_My life is not a game that I play to entertain you_   
_And if you can do it better, then you're welcome to my fame_   
_I'm not gonna waste my time correcting myths and rumors_   
_You believe what you wanna believe_   
_I don't wanna say goodbye_   
_I don't need a reason to cry_   
_Kinda makes me wanna_   
_Kinda makes me hafta_

Puck stopped when he noticed Kurt in the doorway to the kitchen. He frowned at him. "What?"

"I didn't know you knew so much Madonna," Kurt said.

Puck shrugged. "Sarah listened; I kind of had to memorize it. And I told you, nothing wrong with Madonna. She's not in my range, is all."

Kurt approached him slowly, and when Puck didn't move away, he stood behind him, putting a hand on his neck where it met his shoulder. Puck sighed, relaxing into his touch.

He bent and touched his lips to Puck's temple. "Are you just about done here?"

"I guess. I was thinking about heading home."

Kurt tried not to feel it like a slap.  _He's going to do anything he can to push you away,_ he could hear Finn saying. He smoothed Puck's head. "Not yet. We've got some business to take care of first."

Puck gave him a look like he was nuts. "Whatever."

This translated pretty clearly as  _you don't know what I need,_  or possibly  _you're not nearly enough for me_ , but Kurt wasn't going to let him alone with that thought long enough to be convinced. "Look at me. Come on."

Puck kept his eyes fixed on the table for another five seconds while Kurt waited patiently, then sighed and looked up. Kurt smiled encouragingly. "That's it. I'm not angry, sweetheart."

Puck looked suddenly uncertain. "No?"

"No," insisted Kurt. "We had a hard day. You made some bad choices. I need to address them with you, but I'm not angry. I know you did it because you love me and you want to protect me."

"Yeah," Puck agreed vehemently. "I do. 'Cause it's not right, what they're doing to you."

"And you think what you did to Rick's car was right?"

His stubborn expression came back. "He deserved it."

Kurt made his voice as gentle as he could, stroking his hand over the skin of Puck's head, to his shoulders, and back again. "You said that before. I disagree. And, tell me, who's in charge here?"

Puck waited a few moments before answering. "You, I guess."

_Ah._ Kurt held out a hand. "Your guitar, please."

He looked startled. "Uh, Kurt, what –"

"I'm just setting it over here." He took it carefully by the fingerboard and set it in the corner. "You… come with me, right now."

He didn't speak any more loudly or sharply than he had been, but Puck moved with alacrity, leaving the chair where it was, and followed Kurt downstairs. Sarah watched them leave from the upstairs couch with his dad, but she didn't make a comment.

Kurt felt the tension inside himself growing, winding up, like a rubber band stretching tighter, tighter. By the time they reached his room, his jaw was clenched and his hands were restless.  _I need this,_ he thought, always amazed to discover it.  _How do I always forget so easily?_

But the answer was clear. He'd spent his whole life dealing with the stress of his life in conventional ways. To suddenly have this unconventional method at his disposal, no matter how effective… it was a shift in paradigm. He knew it would take time to make it part of himself.

Kurt drew Puck close to him, kissing him, letting him feel the need in his touch, in the way he positioned his body, establishing his control. Puck didn't resist long, and soon he was open-mouthed and gasping with desire, stumbling against the bed. Kurt palmed his erection through his boxers and brought his mouth right against his ear.

"I'm going to ask you this question again," he said. "And I want a better answer. Who's in charge here?"

"You," Puck said immediately, groaning, his hips moving in a slow grind against Kurt's hand. "God, you are, please."

"Better. So, tell me, sweetheart… what's going to happen to you if Rick goes to the police and files a report against you for destruction of property?" He didn't move his hand away, but held it still, not giving him any more pressure than Puck could get by thrusting.

"Uh…"

"Even if there's no associated citation, I imagine they'll fine you. Who's going to pay it? My dad? You think he'll appreciate that?"

Puck had a pained expression now, and Kurt didn't think it had anything to do with his erection. "God, Kurt, I didn't –"

"No, you didn't. And you don't, do you? That's why you need – me." He almost said  _us,_ but Puck wasn't ready to think about Finn. "Remember? It's part of our agreement?"

Puck squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm such a fuck-up."

"Stop that," Kurt said sharply. He grabbed Puck's hands and held them tight in his. "Everybody needs help sometimes. This is one way I can do it for you. I want to, sweetheart. You may  _not_  feel bad about that, understand?" Puck hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Kurt took a deep breath.  _First hurdle._

"Good." He touched Puck's chest, making light circles, while the other hand stroked down Puck's back to rest on his bottom. "Now, I know you're not going to Finn for help right now… but you're going to see Adam in five days. He gave me something to make this easier. A tool. I want you –"

"Kurt!" Puck looked horrified. "You're  _not_ going to –"

Kurt cut him off with a sharp strike on his behind. "I want you to get your paddle."

"Fuck, Kurt," Puck moaned, but Kurt could feel the way he was responding to the idea, how he was suddenly  _vibrating_ with need, his muscles tense and his cock straining for friction.

"Yes. And I want you to take off your shorts and your shirt, and kneel right here on the bed. Quickly, now." He released Puck with a little push, and watched him stumble, wide-eyed in shock - then go right to the bureau and thrust his hand under Kurt's clean handkerchiefs to get the small leather paddle Adam had sent as a holiday gift.

They hadn't had an opportunity to use it yet. No, that wasn't exactly true. It was that Kurt had been afraid, afraid that he wouldn't do it right, that it wouldn't work. That even with the tool, he still wouldn't be enough for Puck. And that would be the end, for them. Discovering that he couldn't satisfy Puck, in this way he so clearly needed, would destroy him. But he had to know. And he wasn't going to give up, not yet.

"Go on," he said, making his voice stern, and watched Puck jump to obey, stripping off his shirt and shorts and climbing onto the bed, hard and quivering. Kurt ran a hand down his back, watching the goosebumps rise on his smooth, muscled flesh.

"So beautiful," he murmured. "Such a good boy. Hand it to me, now."

Puck passed the paddle to Kurt, and he grasped it in his right hand, feeling the firmness of it, its quiet, simple strength. There wasn't anything showy about it, but it was well-made, with no rivets or overlapping parts, stitched securely around the edges in a simple double row. Kurt thought of the suede flogger, the way the impact made him feel when compared to Finn's hand, and he shivered. This would be intense.

_But Noah needs that,_ he thought, and braced himself against the bed.

"You made a careless choice," he said, his hand with the paddle resting on Puck's back, "and for that, you need a reminder."

Puck let his head hang down, his back heaving in erratic breaths. "Yes… sir."

"Yes," Kurt agreed. "That's right. And I'm going to keep going, sweetheart, until I think you're done. Do you understand? No counting tonight. Just let me take care of it."

It was a risk, but they'd never used safe words or anything like that before, and Kurt wasn't going to require them now. Puck had placed his trust in Kurt's hands from the very first day he'd let him hold him, when Kurt had offered to help take care of him, on that day Puck had made them breakfast at his house. He wondered what Adam would say about safe words.

"Yes, sir," came Puck's quiet reply, his back bending as he rested his head on his crossed arms. He waited, trembling. Kurt's hand stroked down his spine.

The first impact always seemed easy to handle, Kurt knew, and Puck usually took a while to move from appreciation to discomfort on his way to release, but by the third stroke of the leather paddle, Kurt could already tell the difference. He was making more noise, squirming and twisting away, and Kurt had to tell him several times to  _hold still._ Even with the distance between the second floor and the basement, he had a moment of unease when Puck gave a shout.

"My father wouldn't like being woken up by this," he cautioned, and after that, Puck muffled his face in one of Kurt's pillows. Perhaps he even had the wherewithal to consider Sarah, sleeping two doors away in her own room. Knowing how they'd grown up, the noises she was  _used_ to dealing with – he never wanted her to think he was hurting Puck, no matter what she might understand about their relationship from her eleven-year-old perspective.

It went on for what seemed like a long time, but Puck didn't let go of his control completely until Kurt leaned in and reassured him, "I'm okay, sweetheart. Let me see that you are, too."

"I can't," Puck moaned through gritted teeth. "I can't… all I can think about is you, and that goddamn fucking asshole Karofsky, taking –"

"He didn't take anything from me, Noah." Kurt was starting to hesitate a little, watching with each swat of the paddle how the flesh of his thighs and buttocks were becoming more red and raised. "My clothes, yes, but – he couldn't take my pride. He couldn't take this away from us. How could he? He can't touch what we have."

"I should have  _been there."_ He wasn't resisting at all anymore, just taking it, taking what Kurt had to give him, letting the impact drive him into the bed. "What good am I to you if I can't – if I can't-"

_Oh, sweetheart._  Kurt felt his own heart wrench. He resisted the urge to stop and hold him, knowing he couldn't give up now.  _This_  was what Noah needed. Instead, he intensified the strokes, hanging on to Alex's advice:  _You can't do lasting damage with a paddle, as long as you don't hit anything fragile._ Puck cried out.

"I don't need you to protect me," Kurt snapped, feeling the tension surge and peak. "I just need you to  _let go._  Do it.  _Now."_

And, to Kurt's astonishment, Puck  _did,_ his muscles relaxing all at once in a series of enormous sobs. "I'm sorry, Kurt, I'm so sorry… so sorry, baby, I let you down…"

"No," Kurt begged, "no, no, don't say that, you're fine, you did just fine, sweetheart…" He let the paddle fall as he climbed up on the bed behind Puck, suddenly frantic to touch his skin, to feel the contact of Puck's body, under him, holding him down. "God… I need – Noah?" Kurt clutched him in both arms, not caring about Puck's raw, red skin, but thrusting against him. Puck met his thrust with a desperate whine.

"Yeah, baby, please… I need that too, come on…"

Kurt didn't quite believe what he was doing, but before he could think, his sweatpants were on the floor and the lube was in his hand. He was preparing Puck and himself in quick, fierce strokes, and then he was on top of him, crushing him into the mattress.  _Claiming_ him.

"Mine," he said, with each breathless stroke into Puck's body, and heard Puck's begging response,  _yours, please, yes._  "Mine; you're  _mine."_

It was over in minutes, his own cries escalating to overtake Puck's, and he had to put his own hand over his mouth to stifle the sound. Then Kurt was panting, his legs like jelly, and he fell onto the bed beside Puck.

"Are you okay?" he asked anxiously, touching Puck's behind, and giving a little exclamation at his flinch. But Puck was laughing.

"No – baby, I'm fine, I'm totally –  _fuck –_ really." With an effort, Puck rolled to his side, shifting his legs gingerly. "Holy shit."

"I think you're going to have some bruises," Kurt said, somewhat horrified. Puck laughed harder.

"I think I'm gonna have trouble  _sitting,"_  he clarified. "For fuck's sake, Kurt; Adam used the lexan paddle on me when he came to visit on New Year's, and it didn't feel like  _this._ What the hell did you  _do?"_

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm – " Then he stopped, shook his head, and gave a helpless laugh of his own. "No, I'm  _not._  I'm not sorry at  _all."_

Puck grinned at him, his face flushed and streaked with tears, but looking entirely relaxed and completely satisfied. "You'd better not be."

Kurt appreciated that Puck never seemed averse to cuddling afterwards, because he always seemed to need that, the reassurance of touch, the connection between them. He was careful to allow some space, but Puck didn't seem to need that, either, and tucked himself in flush against Kurt's stomach.

"That, uh…" Puck chuckled, already drowsy. "That seemed pretty intense for you, too."

"Yeah," Kurt whispered, and kissed his head. "I think we both needed it. And tomorrow, when I talk to Adam, I'll be sure to thank him for his present. It really… made an impression."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music credits:
> 
> “Material Girl,” Madonna, from Like A Virgin, 1984. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R0FXPqYpt0g  
> “Erotica,” Madonna, from Erotica, 1992. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WyhdvRWEWRw  
> “Goodbye to Innocence,” Madonna, from Just Say Roe, 1994. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EmvPHmnvHG4


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl visits Hiram Berry at his office to talk about Rachel and Jesse. Tess comes to visit Carl and give him what he needs; they discuss his fears about Finn and Rachel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I was so excited about this chapter because I got to write Hiram Berry for the first time, and I absolutely adore Hiram and Leroy. 
> 
> Poor Carl; he's not having an easy time of things. Thanks, as always, to Flynn Anthony for writing Tess. The only warning in this chapter is for discipline, and not until the end. 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> -amy

Carl took a seat in the reception area of Hiram's office. He nodded at Oscar at the desk. Oscar gave him a sunny smile, straightening up. "Good morning, sir," he said. "I'll tell Hiram you're here."

"Thank you, Oscar," he replied. "How have you been? It's been over a year."

"Oh, I'm doing very well, thank you," he said, with an obliging bob of his head. "This job's working out perfectly. Hiram is a very kind employer."

Carl knew firsthand how different some people were at work compared to the way they were at home, but as far as he could tell, Hiram was not one of them. For the eighteen years Carl had known him, he'd always been gracious, meticulous and a little bit detached. Those qualities, plus his involvement in the BDSM scene, made him a perfect boss for an eager-to-please slave like Oscar.

"I'm glad to hear that," Carl said, smiling. "Hiram's a good man."

"Don't start spreading rumors," said Hiram, emerging from the office with a brisk chuckle. He hugged Carl. "You're looking good, my friend. Come on back. Oscar, get the man an iced tea, that's a dear."

"Right away, sir," Oscar nodded. Hiram smiled privately to Carl.

"It's easier to get away with such titles when you're in administration," he murmured. "Nobody thinks I'm more than a little quaint and stuffy for requiring it from him."

"And you're actually both of those things, so…" Carl grinned. "I'm glad Oscar's working out for you. There's no shortage of positions for a good slave, but I wouldn't feel comfortable placing him with just any employer."

"Well, I may be a poor excuse for a Top," said Hiram, settling himself behind his desk and gesturing for Carl to sit across from him, "but at least I can treat him well. And it's no effort to meet his more… personal needs."

Carl nodded. Everyone had their kinks. For people like Oscar, it was convenient that they could get them met at work, but for Hiram, it was just a job. He got what he needed from his own Top, at home. "And how's Leroy?"

"Busy as always," he sighed, fluttering his hand. "This commute to Toledo is playing havoc with our social life. He's always gone. I swear, Carl, it's worse than when Davis was working for that dreadful firm in Cleveland."

"He's a lot happier since he started working for himself," Carl agreed. Oscar appeared behind him, handing him his iced tea, and beamed when Carl thanked him. "He has enough loyal clients to keep himself fully employed, now. Any chance Leroy could open his own practice?"

"Oh, I don't know. He says his specialty is too limited for a city like Lima, but when I suggest expanding his practice outside of grief counseling, he says I'm getting pushy, and that usually ends badly for me." Hiram gave Carl a pointed look, and Carl nodded in sympathy. "So I try not to bring it up. If you ask me, he's getting a little set in his ways." He waved it away. "No matter. In two more years Rachel will be done here, and we'll be able to retire wherever we damn well choose."

"And where might that be?" Carl asked politely. He listened to Hiram chatter about New York with half an ear. Hiram and Leroy weren't the only ones looking forward to that year. At the time of the adoption, the agreement they'd signed stated that Rachel could learn the identity of her birth parents, if she chose, once she turned eighteen. Carl wasn't going to miss that opportunity.  _She's the only child I'll ever have. I watched her grow up, through her adoptive fathers, and if she wants to know me, I'll be waiting. Two more years... it's not really that long._

"And how about you?" Hiram was asking. "Davis tells me you'll be hosting Jesse for a time while Rachel and Nathan are in Bali? What's that all about?"

Here it was. The reason for his visit. Carl grimaced and leaned forward, using his most persuasive body language. "Jesse's having trouble with some of the students at his school," he said. "He wants to transfer to McKinley for a semester. Shelby won't tell me the details, but – he's the star, and it's not always easy for him, especially at a school like Carmel. Jealousy, competition…"

"Oh, I know," Hiram said, looking wise. "Rachel goes through that with some regularity."

Carl cleared his throat. "Uh… has Rachel told you anything about Jesse?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just that… I hear they've gotten to know one another, through their activities in Carmel's Vocal Adrenaline and McKinley's Glee club. That they're becoming… close."

"You're better informed than me. Rachel hasn't mentioned him at all. Unless – wait a minute." Hiram's blank look shaded to alarm. "They didn't go to a Wiggles concert on Sunday, did they?"

"I have no idea," Carl said, but he could see Hiram was working up to his own conclusions.

"For the love of –" He sighed loudly, his voice rising in agitation. "There's somebody she's been seeing… and after she and Finn broke up, I was  _glad_  she was dating someone else, but I figured she was just waiting to tell us his name when she was ready… I should have expected something like this, with the two of them being in music in the same state, but really, I thought two hours apart was  _enough_  to keep them from running into one another." Hiram splayed both hands on his blotter, staring at Carl in horror. "Carl, what are we going to do?"

"I wish I could help," he said. It was a relief to hear, even in the midst of all the confusion, independent confirmation that Rachel and Finn weren't currently dating. "It's an awkward situation."

"Damn right it's awkward!" snapped Hiram. "How do you tell your daughter that she can't date a boy because - he's her  _brother,_  when she's not supposed to  _have_  any brothers?"

Carl was silent. He'd never appreciated the fiction that Leroy and Hiram had told Rachel about one of them being her birth father, although he might understand why they'd done it. There wasn't anything he could do about it now. Not for two more years.  _You could tell her the truth,_  he might say, but that would just upset Hiram further, and he'd always been a little high strung.

Hiram sighed. "I suppose I'll have to talk to Davis and Shelby about it. And Leroy will have his own opinions, I'm sure. God." Then he blinked. "Wait – isn't Jesse  _gay?"_

"You know kids these days," Carl said vaguely.

"Mmm. I suppose so. Playing up and down the Kinsey scale. I'm a little surprised Rachel hasn't hit her experimental lesbian phase yet, actually." Hiram leaned back, looking more pensive than upset now. "What about you, Carl? Are the rumors true? You've found yourself a boy?"

He smiled. "No question about my spot on the Kinsey Scale, I hope. Yes, there's someone. He's young, but quite competent. Tess introduced us." That should be enough detail to satisfy Hiram.

"I hear you've been taking him around to the usual spots in Columbus. My eyes and ears there say he's lovely, and quite talented." He paused, waiting for confirmation, but receiving none, went on. "Perhaps you'd like to have him over for dinner sometime?"

"Uh… he keeps a low profile," Carl said. "We're trying to stay private. I don't think he's ready for high tea at the queens'."

"Understood. And I'll keep the gossip to a minimum. I wouldn't know the first thing about staying closeted, but I know how that can be for some people." Hiram rose and came around to the front of his desk to hug Carl again. "So good to see you. Even if you can't bring your boy over for dinner, perhaps you and Davis…?"

"No matchmaking," Carl said sternly. "You know we're no good together, and he's seeing one of Tess' managers. But do let me know what you and Leroy decide to do about Rachel and Jesse, all right? In the meantime, I'll do my best to dissuade him. Maybe I need to find  _him_  a boy."

"Maybe he needs a good spanking," Hiram suggested. "If you ask me, it's high time he got one for  _something."_

Carl was grinning as he headed for the elevator. Davis had some influence over his son, but Shelby had made it  _very_  clear that neither he nor Carl were permitted to introduce Jesse to any of their "questionable practices."  _Pretty sure that means I'm not allowed to spank him, then._  No matter. Jesse had enough curiosity and drive to discover his kinks, whatever they were, all on his own.

He climbed into his car with a determined sigh, and peeled out of the parking lot, heading for the airport. Task one had been accomplished. Now he had to deal with Tess.

* * *

Tess stepped into the terminal, feeling hot and tired after the hideous flight, tugging her carry-on after herself like a crippled duckling. She was annoyed by the fact that the wheel had chipped badly in the overhead compartment, and adjusted the overly tight strap of her briefcase around her shoulder. If she tripped over another business commuter here...

"Tess," she heard, and glanced across the terminal to see Carl Jesse waiting, his hands in his pockets. He reached out to take her bag, smiling. "Can I get that for you?"

"Thank you," she huffed, with some modicum of relief. "That was  _hideous_."

"Traveling on a Monday is stressful," he agreed. He folded the handle back into her carry-on and hefted it off the floor with one hand.

"Mondays are meant for nothing more than sleeping in," she told him, a wry smile sneaking onto her face as she looked at her boy. "Thank you for coming, I was perhaps expecting to see Angela, rather than you?"

"It's not every day you come to Lima, Tess." His smile was a little too slick to be genuine, and she could read the tension in his posture. "I cleared my morning schedule. You have me at your disposal."

"Flatterer," she told him, but her tone made it more like praise than criticism. She was well aware, after taking Stephen's slightly cryptic message, that she'd need to take care of her boy while she was here. "I'm glad to hear it." Her eyebrow arched, and her smile grew fractionally. "Get me out of this bloody airport, love, if you please, before I'm tempted to discipline the next commuter who gets underfoot."

He led her out to the parking ramp and to the car waiting for them, casually spanning two parking spaces. Carl opened the passenger door for Tess, but balked at her expression.

"Carl. Jesse.  _Howell."_  She looked hard at his slightly sheepish face, and then up and down the sleek lines of the Corvette, taking in the current year of the model - and the classic candy apple red coloring. " _Carl._  You may explain yourself,  _right now._ "

He blinked, then looked at his hands. "Uh - well, I -"

" _Jesse."_

"Yes ma'am," he said hastily. "I guess... I needed a little distraction? Though I bought it long before I met Finn, I can assure you."

Tess had to take a deep breath. More than one, actually, but she was well practiced in concealing that from this particular scrap of disobedience standing before her.

"I'm not finding any assurance here, Carl Jesse. Continue, if you please." Her tone was dubious, suggesting that he was probably not going to find a way out of this one, not without a map and a maglite.

"Tess," he protested. "I'm perfectly entitled to drive any kind of car I want to."

She glanced to either side. " _Get in the car,"_ she hissed, noting that several clusters of bystanders were looking fairly intently. She seated herself, fixing him with a piercing stare as she pulled her skirts around her ankles.

He avoided her eyes, making a ridiculous show of checking his mirrors. "Maybe you'd like to get some lunch...?"

It didn't particularly matter, the stalling. She couldn't exactly spank him right here in the parking lot. "I would not like to 'get some lunch,' young man, I would like to know the precise reason why you felt it necessary to borrow money to acquire... to acquire a mid-life crisis penismobile."

"Borrow money?" he huffed. "I'll have you know I wrote a check for...  _what_  did you call it?"

She stared him down, with long ease of practice. "A check," she said, and her tone made it sound... dirty.

His expression was positively sullen. "I'm doing just  _fine_  for myself, thank you very much," he snapped. "I'm not that first lieutenant who left California all those years ago, living paycheck to paycheck. You don't get to come to  _my_  town and talk to me like -"

"Then perhaps you would like to explain, perchance, young man, why your... vehicle has its proverbial balls straddling two parking spaces, the same way you used to park when you were a snotty little toerag on base? And why there's a police officer about to tap on your window to ask the same question of you?"

Carl's glance shot to the window, eyes wide, and took in the uniformed figure glaring at him. "Pretty sure he's just a security officer," he muttered. Then he sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Sh- uh, great."

"With the ability to cite you for a rather expensive violation, hmm?" She nodded at the clearly posted sign, just before the Corvette's nose. "And mind your mouth, boy."

"I did," he protested, rolling down his window. He gave the security guard a smile and a pacifying wave of his hand. "Sorry... I'm moving it right now."

They managed to make it out of the garage and onto the freeway without any further mishaps, but Carl's shoulders weren't relaxing. "I'm glad to see you," he said. "Really. It's been... a bizarre week."

Tess arched an eyebrow at him. "Nice try, Jesse. Car. Explanation. Now. You had a perfectly serviceable and reliable Saab, which I'm well aware you liked. Not to mention the hit your retirement fund must have taken, if you wrote a check?"

"I don't know, Tess," he groaned. "It was impulsive, okay, but I... You know, all of your managers drive classics - and you've got your Jag, I'd think you'd understand... I wanted something that felt entirely  _mine_  every time I climbed into it. And I don't really have the knowledge or time to keep a classic cranking over the way James and Stephen do."

Tess sighed. "All right. I can accept that - but I hope you realize," she suggested, her voice silky and low, "that I certainly won't accept that mouthful of invective? 'Your' town, Jesse?"

"I apologize. That was uncalled for." He slouched in his seat, his eyes on the road. "I really don't know what to do with this situation, Tess."

"I understand that, honey. You don't need to set out to prove that to me in finest of brat forms every time you turn around. That's only going to get you one thing - which, yes, you've asked for, but you certainly don't need to beg with your behaviour."

Carl squirmed under her stern regard as he zipped along the offramp. "I honestly don't think I can help that."

Tess barely managed to prevent herself from staring at him. "Now that sounds like a familiar line. I know just what to do with that, honey. We're close, aren't we?"

"Right around the corner," he whispered.

"Excellent." She waited quietly, until he pulled the sleek car smoothly into the garage of the large house, and the bay door conveniently closed as he was walking around to open her door for her. She stood, taking his hand, and bided her time until he closed the car door.

And then she moved, lightning fast, battlefield reflexes still honed from practice with her managers and in the club, easily contrasting just how out of practice he was. She had his ear in her grip, twisting and drawing him to the front of the car, eyeing the design of the body. She bent him over the hood, ensuring that he was standing at a quarter panel, and not going to be facefirst over the hottest part of the metal hood.

"Tess," he protested, his hands out, frantically twisting his body away from the side of the car. "Let me - really, I don't want to scratch the paint; can't I at least take my belt off -"

"Carl  _Jesse._ " She didn't have any patience to listen to such pleas. She simply brought her hard and practiced palm down on his backside half a dozen times, watching his reactions closely, and then added another half dozen for good measure, before tugging him upwards again, still by the convenient handle of his ear. "Perhaps you might attempt to mind me?"

"Ma'am," he pleaded, and winced at her twisting fingers. "Yes, ma'am, I'll listen..."

"Excellent. Thank you, sweetheart," she told him, pulling him closer to kiss his cheek gently, and finally letting go of his ear. "Now then, shall we? Unless you'd like to take your pants down, and continue? That's up to you, honey. I wouldn't mind a glass of water and someplace comfortable to sit."

He rubbed the side of his head ruefully. "You definitely deserve that, Tess. Let me just get your bag."

As often happened with her boy, once she'd given him a taste of what he needed, the words flowed easily, and they were able to be calm together. Angela served them more quickly than usual and left them alone to talk.

"I think she's still a little nervous around you," Carl said, passing the rolls across the table.

"I can't imagine why," Tess replied blankly. "She's been very sweet and attentive?"

"That first time you came to my office, last fall?" He shook his head ruefully. "I think you scared the pants off her. She thinks you're a rock star or something."

"Bah, she and I went for coffee, honey, just the two of us. Remember? She was lovely. And she's a bright young woman. Perhaps you could turn that energy towards her aspirations in life."

Carl sighed. "I keep trying to help her find another employer, but so far, she's refused every one. Not that I'm anxious to do without her, but I'm not intentionally keeping her out of the usual process of slave training. I'll keep sending her to interviews."

"Hmm. Perhaps I'll have another conversation with her, while I'm here."

Carl was clearly looking uncomfortable at the idea of Angela leaving his service. No wonder, considering how much her boy needed taking care of. He shrugged. "I'd rather she be satisfied, of course. She's done a great service for this house, and the office..." He trailed off, drumming his hands on the table.

Tess reached out and laid a hand over his, quieting them. "That's enough," she said. Her voice was calm, the gesture not in the least forceful, and he took comfort from the weight and warmth of her small hand over his. "We're not here to discuss Angela, sweetheart. I believe you asked to see me?"

He sighed, bowing his head. "Yes. It's Finn. He's so young, and has so much in his life still to experience, I - well, I may have advised him to consider dating girls as well as boys, if he thought he might want that."

Tess looked a little puzzled. "That seems like sound advice, Jesse. How did he respond?"

A pained look came over his face. "It turns out there's only one girl he wants to date. It's - Tess, it's Rachel."

Tess' eyes went wide, and her hand went over her mouth. She couldn't help the corners of her eyes crinkling, but...  _my poor boy,_ she thought.

"Yeah. Thanks." He winced. "But...  _God,_  Tess. I can't help but think I asked for this one."

Tess took a deep breath. "Carl Jesse. You did not ask for anything."

Carl shook his head in clear despair. "He's  _my boy._  And she... for all I gave her up willingly, I've watched her grow, I've given her everything I could... she's still  _my girl."_

"Of course she is," she soothed. "And yes, he's  _your boy_. Was there any reason to think that this might happen? They've lived in the same town for the past four years, sweetheart."

"I know." Carl closed his eyes, leaning both hands over his eyes. His lunch was forgotten. "God, that's not the only thing. My worlds are colliding. No sooner than she and Finn hit a rocky patch did she choose another familiar face to be her next beau.  _Jesse's_ dating her now."

Tess had reached out to remove her boy's hands from his face, and froze, in mid-reach. "My goodness. Dating isn't the same now in high school, is it," she remarked mildly, concealing her own startlement well. She firmly brought his hands down so that she could see his face, and covered them lightly with one of her own as he went on.

"I talked to Hiram today. I'm hoping he can shake some sense into her, even if he can't tell her the whole truth about her parentage. Or Jesse's, for that matter." He shook his head, clutching her hands. "Davis is being remarkably calm about the whole thing - I think he expects it's going to all blow over, but I... I just don't know."

"That sounds like an excellent decision. I know you've never agreed with Hiram and Leroy, but you've been wonderfully respectful of their wishes." She smiled a little, at the picture of a perfectly calm Davis, something she'd never personally witnessed, and told him as much. "You might borrow a leaf from his book, Carl Jesse. Teenagers... their emotions come and go, and it's such a whirlwind. And  _no,_  I'm not speaking about your boy. That one looks to run a little deeper than most, though I haven't had much time to spend talking to him."

He was so predictable. Carl's shoulders dropped a little. "Yes, he really does. Tess... the more time I spend with him, the more I appreciate what's under the surface of that boy. He's... remarkable." His expression was completely transfixed by the image of Finn in his mind.

She leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "As is my boy, right here, Carl Jesse."

He blushed, though of course he did not deny it. "You know best, Tess."

"Now that sounds like flattery," she cautioned.

"I've always appreciated an opportunity to tell you how wonderful you are," he agreed, giving her hand a squeeze.

"Hmm. I seem to recall a particular phrase you used to use with an alarming degree of frequency, however."

He raised an eyebrow. "What would that be?"

She tapped a thoughtful finger on her chin. "I believe it was 'Major Bitch,' if I am not mistaken," she said, smiling sweetly at him.

That made him laugh. "You always pushed my buttons," he agreed ruefully. "I don't think I've ever experienced a more challenging few months than that first couple in your service - and that includes basic training and my time overseas."

Her grey eyes were thoughtful and serious. "Perhaps contrast that with your situation here, Jesse."

Carl fiddled with his teaspoon. "I won't deny things have been complicated. But - Tess, even with all this craziness with Rachel and Finn, I wouldn't have given it up for anything." He took a slow breath. "I can't remember a time when I've been so satisfied, caring for a boy. He's everything I've been looking for... for so long. And - god..." His voice broke. "I  _know_  it's not going to last, but I don't  _care,_  I just have to have this, for as long as he'll let me."

That got a frown from her. "Carl Jesse," she said firmly. "Those are not the words of a man in charge of his situation."

"I know." He bowed his head. "I don't feel particularly in charge of things at the moment."

She examined her boy, recognizing the clear signs. "I made you a promise once upon a time. I believe I know what you need - and I am here, sweetheart. I will not act, however, unless you ask me."

He knew what she meant.  _I won't discipline you for anything to do with your daughter._  That was his purview, and she kept her promises. "I appreciate that, Tess, and..." He tightened his hands into fists, then released them. "Please. I need a spanking. Help me."

"Very well," she said, her dark voice hushed. "You will go to your office here in the house, you will remove your pants and your shorts. You will place a selection of tools on the desk for me. You will stand in the corner. And you will wait."

"Ma'am, yes ma'am," was his quiet reply, as he rose from the table.

His home office was warmly furnished with wood and leather, much as his office on Main Street was, but the desk had come from Tessera, and there wasn't one piece of art on the walls that hadn't been shot by his own camera. This room was a reflection of Jesse's transformation into Carl, moment by moment, through the years she'd known him. It wasn't a surprise to her the way he moved quickly to obey, opening his second drawer and withdrawing a tawse, a leather strap and a heavy flogger, all well-worn and oiled. He laid them out with care on his desk, moving aside a stack of papers. Then he went to the corner and bowed his head, kneeling in his own familiar pose of contemplation.

Which she was not about to tolerate, more of that brooding. She swept up behind him and planted a sharp smack on his pristine bottom.

"I believe I told you to stand, did I not?"

He looked far too hurt for a simple smack, but he got to his feet and tried again, responding with a quiet, "Yes, ma'am."

She landed a matching swat on the other side. "Hands on your head, young man."

"Tess," he protested wildly, "God, what do you  _want_ from me?"

That earned him a half dozen spanks, quick and hard. "Carl Jesse Howell.  _Obedience,_ " she snapped.

"I'm doing the best I can," he snapped right back.

He stumbled a little as she pulled him away from the corner, taking two quick steps backward with her charge while she grasped his waist and doubled him over, her quirt in her hand to smack down another half dozen times, though not severely.

"Manners," she reminded calmly. She'd had hopes that he would have gone quietly and obediently as she'd asked, given how baldly and calmly he'd asked for a spanking, but then again, this was Jesse.

"Yes - yes, ma'am, I - I hear you." He flinched away, but did not attempt to impede the quirt's blows.

"Corner, Jesse. Standing. Hands on your head." Tess' tone was brisk, but not heartless.

He complied immediately, facing the wall. She was pretty certain those were already tears lurking in his wounded hazel eyes. She glanced around the office, looking at the big desk, and the chair behind it, assessing the spanking implements on the desk. The flogger she lifted and shook her head, sliding it back into the drawer. She laid her quirt out on the desk beside the strap and the tawse, shifting them so that she could reach them from the desk chair, and then seated herself elegantly.

Those were definitely tears. She could see the tiny muscle jerks in his shoulder that always gave him away, and she contemplated her next move. She wasn't certain whether or not he would remain obedient; it was always a 50/50 chance at this point, so she simply sat and observed.

Carl Jesse's posture indicated he wasn't going to give up control without a hell of a fight, but at the same time, he was close to breaking down without scarcely a touch. She wasn't sure who he thought he was fooling, here.  _Hell, at this rate, Davis could have spanked you,_  she sighed to herself.  _You didn't need me for this. Why did you call me, my sweet boy?_ She stepped back over to him, moving as silently as she always had.

"Perhaps you can behave, now?" It was a simple question, but-

"It's the question of a lifetime, isn't it?" His hands didn't waver from the position on his head, but his tone was bitter.

Tess shook her head ruefully, and brought her hand smacking down yet another half dozen times. "I didn't ask for lip, boy," she told him briskly, and added another six for good measure.

Carl's hands were jolted from where they were locked behind his head, and he had to put one of them out to catch himself on the wall. "Ma'am," he replied, clearly in pain - and it wasn't from her firm swats. "Please."

"Think you can mind your mouth, and mind your manners?"

He bowed his head. "Yes, ma'am."

_Too easy,_  she thought. "Excellent." She swatted the now reddened backside a few more times, though not with as much wrist to it, and reached up to grasp his ear. "Come with me, little boy." She twisted, bringing his height down just a tad, so that he had to lean to follow her, else be in pain.

He followed the path of her hand, as though he could have done any differently, with a muttered curse, and went where she directed him. Then he glanced up at her in muted horror, wincing at his unfortunate choice, because of course he knew exactly how well she tolerated foul language. "Tess, I'm sorry, I -"

Tess, who had frozen briefly at the sound of the curse, marched him straight behind his own desk, where she sat down in his chair. "Bend over and grab the edge of the desk," she ordered.

He clutched at the polished wood like it was the only thing between him and a firing squad. "Ma'am," he choked, the tears already falling.

She didn't wait for him to finish, simply brought her quirt to hand, and brought a full dozen whistling down, striping his backside nicely. He gave in to each impact on his bottom with glorious, almost desperate acceptance, but it wasn't until the last few strokes that he made any noise. These were frustrated grunts, the sound a person might make if they were absolutely at the end of their rope, just before hysterics sat in. She wouldn't put Carl Jess past a good hysterical crying fit, but she'd thought he had enough control not to find himself there without so much as a piece of leather on his behind.

Tess brought him upright again, glancing at the tears streaming down his face. "Are we through with the bratting?"

"Yes, ma'am," he whispered.

"Very well then, Carl Jesse," she said, seating herself again, and positioning her at his side, where she could easily guide him over her knee. "Why am I about to spank your bottom?"

"I'm out of c-control," he stammered. She thought he might be close to a breakdown, by the expression on his face.

"I see that," she said. And she brought her hand down across his backside - not in the great stinging slap that he was clearly expecting, for he winced before she so much as touched him. Instead, she began spanking lightly, the way she might give a bedtime spanking to a brat she was particularly fond of.

"Tess," he protested.

"And how are you out of control?" she inquired, though the motion of her hand never stopped bringing down those light swats on his naked bottom.

"Finn," he blurted, sounding surprised to hear the word coming out of his own mouth. "It's - Finn. He needs - a reliable teacher, a clear set of guidelines, a -"

"Are you failing to set clear boundaries?" Her hand rested for a moment, rubbing at the reddened cheeks, watching him squirm.

He shook his head, desperately choking on the words he couldn't get out.

"Verbally, if you please, Carl Jesse," she suggested, with two slightly smarting smacks to the backs of his thighs. "Are you failing to set clear boundaries?"

"I'm giving him  _boundaries,_ ma'am, _"_  he ground out. "And he's following them. Not for trying to get around them at every turn, but he's following them." He stared back at her momentarily, and she could see the clear frustration he was feeling.

"Would he be able to repeat those boundaries to me, if I asked him," she inquired sweetly, resuming the light spanking, working her hand up and down the surface of his backside quickly and thoroughly.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, wincing at her hand. "He's a  _good_  boy. He'll do anything I ask of him."

"That's very good, Carl Jesse. When you suggested that he might consider dating girls, did you inquire as to whom he might have any sort of feelings?" Her hand never stopped moving, with those very light, almost nursery-worthy swats.

"No," he said. "Rachel wouldn't... no. But I didn't expect her to fall for a  _football_  player."

Two more sharp swats fell on his thighs. "I did not inquire as to Miss Rachel," Tess informed him. "You may focus, now. Even if you  _had_  inquired with young Finn as to the names of the girls of whom he is enamoured, would you have been able to take any reasonable action, once you heard Rachel's name from his lips?" She resumed the careful spanking, watching him closely.

"I could have dissuaded him from dating girls at all," he protested. "He's not in  _love_  with... with  _her._ "

"Would dissuading him have been an honest, upright action on your part?" She began to work the swats lower and lower, nearing the bright spots on his thighs.

He shook his head, clearly feeling the burn, but not pulling away. "This whole situation is rife with lies and deceit, Tess. It's - I hate it." He spat the words out like poison. "I  _hate it."_

"Tell me,  _right now_ ," she ordered, emphasizing the command with another pair of harsh slaps to that same spot on his thighs. "Would it have been honest to try to dissuade him?"

"No!" he cried. "There was  _nothing_  I could do!"

"Have you lied, little boy? Have you told young Finn lies, or told his parents lies, or told me lies?"

"I -" He shuddered out a breath. "No. No lies. As much as I can, it's all - it's all been true."

"I don't like the sound of "as much as I can," Carl Jesse," she said, emphasizing the phrase with sharper swats.

"You  _know_  I can't tell Rachel the truth," he said, each word torn from his lips.

That earned him a severe spank across the most sensitive part of his bottom. "I do not recall making any inquiries about Miss Rachel, Carl Jesse."

"I can't tell Finn, either. I promised her - her fathers." The tears fell from his eyes onto the well-worn wood of the floor beside her chair.

She laid her hot hand on the back of his neck. "No one expects you to tell Finn, sweetheart. You've been asked to keep a confidence, and you have respected that."

"But how can I let him fall into this untruth? When he finds out..." His eyes were haunted.

"I do not believe that  _you_  are allowing him to fall into the untruth. That untruth, honey, that belongs entirely to Hiram and Leroy. And the situation is not controllable from your position, not in the least."

He breathed into her touch. "I don't think he's going to see it that way, Tess."

"There is no good way around it, sweetheart," she soothed, massaging at his tense neck, though her other hand kept him firmly pinned over her lap. "There will be hurt, and for many people, because there have been lies told. They are not  _your_  lies; you do not own them. This is about respecting the men raising your daughter. Throughout this, you remain honorable to your promises - to see that Rachel has a kind and loving home, and to Hiram and his partner, to not be in contact with her - including hiding things from your lovers. Finn will see this. Finn is a teenager, sweetheart. He will not see it right away, I believe - but he will see it, see your honesty and your care, and your love, Carl Jesse."

His shoulders shook as the sobs emerged. "It's going to break him," he cried. "I won't be able to bear the expression on his face when he finds out - but god, I see it, Tess, over and over, in my dreams."

Her voice was kind, but firm. "You have your own choices. You can break things off with young Finn now, choose to effectively end the drama and pain. Or you can plan to support him through that potentially difficult time in the future. And might I remind you, you cannot, and should not predict people's emotional reactions to situations. Not even a lover's - not  _especially_  a lover's." She patted his bottom firmly, making him squirm.

"No, ma'am," he agreed. "You're right. I just wish..." This time his sigh came more easily. "He sees Rachel clearly, her worth, her goodness. From what I hear him tell me, he may be one of the only people who does. I wish I could  _thank_  him for that."

"You can, lovey," she soothed. "You can thank him in your responsibility to him, in your love for him, in the care you show to him. You can thank him by continuing to be responsible yourself, making well thought out choices and decisions, upholding a good example. Do you understand?"

"Yes." He straightened his back, nodding and wiping his eyes. "I can do that. I can do that for him."

"Very good, Carl Jesse. I believe we have a spanking to finish now, don't we?" Her small hand patted unerringly at the sorest spot.

His expression was more amused than horrified. "You don't think that was enough?"

The spanking that followed wasn't exactly a set of love pats. She was swatting a little more sternly than she had before, and she laid down twelve of them before pausing. "Do we assume others' reactions?" She did not wait for a reply, but added another twelve. "Do we allow our own issues to tear us down inside, rather than talking about them?" Another twelve fell. "Do we take on others' burdens?" Still, she did not allow him to answer. "The answer to those questions, Jesse," she asked, pausing for a moment in her work.

"No, ma'am," he mumbled, his head dangling from his neck, chin on his chest. "No. I don't have to choose those things. And... I won't."

"Very good, Carl Jesse." Her hand slapped down quickly and painfully another dozen times, and then fell to the center of his back, rubbing there as she listened to his tears wane.

He didn't even ask, but simply turned and folded into her lap, putting his hands around her neck, clinging as he might have done with his own mother, had they had this kind of trust and care in their relationship. Tess stroked his dark hair, carding her fingers through the strands, which were still too long, would hang in his eyes when he was ready to sit up. She sat there, stroking, waiting for the tears to cease, thumbing them away from his sensitive face here and there, until he finally took the long breath that she knew meant that he was done.

"Now then," she said quietly. "You will see me before you retire for the night, for a bedtime spanking."

"I would appreciate that," he admitted, raising his head from her chest.

"You deserve it, dear one, for bratting and swearing at me like that. Honestly, Jesse," she said, complaining a little.

"I  _know,"_  he sighed. "I can hear myself clearly, later, like it was a textbook example I was delivering and not a heartfelt tantrum. I wish I could break out of it in the moment, but..."

Tess barely refrained from snorting, simply stroking his hair more firmly. "Well. I will break you of it, sweetheart. This I promise you."

"I miss you, Tess," he whispered, stroking the collar of her shirt. "Nobody gives me what you do."

"I miss you too, little darling. You may come see me more often, you know. It's very difficult for me to get away at times. You are very lucky my schedule was clear this week."

"You're telling me." He kissed her cheek chastely. "Thank you. And yes, I'll come down more often. It would be my pleasure, really, and Davis would adore some company on his weekend visits."

"I believe we should go and finish our luncheon, don't you?" Her eyes sparkled at him, and he winced, clearly thinking of the hard kitchen chairs.

"With pants or without?" he said, with a trace of a grin.

She contemplated long enough that he widened his eyes. Then she smiled at him. "I believe you asked for the spanking, and that although the bratting is enough to net you a disciplinary session at bedtime, you may put your shorts and pants back on - for now." Her smile became sly. "Do you need help?"

"Not this time," he said solemnly. "And Angela will thank you. She abhors bare bottoms on the furniture."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse St. James meets Tess when he comes to stay with his Uncle Carl. Tess has a nice visit with Finn while Kurt and Puck are out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Flynn for writing Tess.

Jesse couldn't believe his Uncle Carl had such a big kitchen. He didn't really understand why the whole house was so big, when it was just him living there alone. His housekeeper Angela came by every day, so at least it wasn't a mess, but there wasn't anything elegant about the way his uncle kept house.

"God, you need a wife," Jesse muttered, nudging the ugly green glass bottles on the windowsill. "Or a gay man to decorate for you. What  _is_  this shit?"

"Those, young man, would be mementos from the commitment ceremony that ensured that you exist," a voice said tartly from the doorway of the kitchen.

Jesse swung his gaze around to see a lovely, older dark-haired woman, in a flowing blue silk top and matching pants, barefoot. He gave a little shake of his head, smiling to himself. "No way. My dad would never let something that ugly appear in his wedding. If he were still living with Uncle Carl, this place would be exhibiting some style."

"I believe your father has had a great deal of input into this house, and I wasn't aware that a bottle of wine was meant to be aesthetically pleasing, since one is normally observing the label, and enjoying the contents."

Jesse sniffed, holding the empty bottle by its neck and perusing the label.  _November 15, 1995. Davis Lawton and Carl Jesse Howell._ "What is this? Some kind of placecard? Looks like they printed each guest's name on it. Dot matrix, how quaint." He squinted. "Tess Riordan. Oh, she's a total badass. My uncle's told me about her. Of course, I was only a baby when they had their commitment ceremony."

"And you're all of eighteen now? I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Jesse," she said, straightfaced, holding out an elegant hand. "You may address me as Ms. Riordan, if you please."

He paused, startled, then grinned at her, shaking her hand. "The pleasure's all mine, Ms. Riordan."

Ms. Riordan raised a rather elegant eyebrow. "Thank you, young man. Your uncle mentioned that I might encounter you here. I'm afraid I've been in a business meeting for several hours, and I'm certain I missed the opportunity for your uncle to introduce us, tonight."

Jesse waved her away. "Oh, I haven't seen anybody tonight either. Uncle Carl told me just to come in and get settled. I drove in from Akron just an hour ago."

Ms. Riordan glanced him over. "And your classes for the afternoon?"

"My mom got me out of them." He opened the fridge and perused the contents, sighing at his uncle's complete lack of taste in cheese. "I'm transferring to McKinley next week, so there was really no point. Carmel's curriculum is light years ahead of McKinley's, anyway. And really, I have a full ride to UCLA already. The rest of this year is practically a formality."

"I shouldn't think that Carmel's curriculum is that stunning, given the misperception of  _light years_  measuring time as opposed to distance. And..." Jesse watched Ms. Riordan's grey eyes turn steely, focusing in on him tightly. "You might do better to disabuse yourself of the notion that the rest of your year is a formality. UCLA can and will rescind a scholarship, if there's a notable change in grades, or... schools."

He hadn't thought of that, but Jesse let the idea slide off him as he poured a glass of Fresca over ice. There wasn't much that he hadn't been able to manage in regards to school, including some entirely unethical things involving grades and other students assisting with term papers. "Vocal Adrenaline members don't have to worry about that," he assured her. "We're kind of like royalty."

"You may find that a college cares nothing for high school programmes, aside from nothing the fact that a student has participated in formal extracurricular activities." The woman smoothed her hands down her waist, and it almost looked as if she were reaching for something which was at present absent from her touch.

Jesse smirked. "They do when you're going to be majoring in performing arts. Especially when it comes to a program like Carmel's. Shelby's a fantastic director, you know. She's been on Broadway." He didn't mention the sudden shift in choreographers mid-year. Dakota had been talented and brutally focused, but he'd also driven several of the more sensitive members out of Vocal Adrenaline entirely. He'd hoped Toby might be a better influence on the group. He was almost sad he wouldn't be there to see that happen, now... but Shelby had been adamant.  _You've got to keep an eye on Rachel,_  she'd said. _She's the key to everything_.

Ms. Riordan seemed to allow a small, controlled smile to cross her face. "As you will. Perhaps UCLA will choose not to disabuse you of that notion. They certainly have corrected similar misconceptions for other students."

He cocked his head at her. "I don't quite follow you," he said mildly.

"Ah," Ms. Riordan replied. "High school - whether it be private school, or private lessons, has little to no bearing on college, Jesse." Her voice was curiously gentle, in contrast to the hard look she was directing at him. "You will need to proceed in college on your own merit, not on the merit earned in high school. And, most sincerely, young man, UCLA in particular does watch for that last semester, and students who choose to let it slide often find that their scholarships, or even acceptances will.. slide.. if you will, and that they do not find themselves enrolled."

Jesse felt an uneasy prickle along his spine. It wasn't a pleasant thought. Not for the first time that month, he found himself wondering how much of his mother's motivation stemmed from a desire to support him, and how much was about her own selfish, hidden agenda. He kept silent, focusing on his drink, and avoided her gaze.

Ms. Riordan's expression stayed calm and collected, her grey eyes observing. "I am glad to meet you, Jesse," she said, and he tried not to think about the fact that she sounded as if she'd gentled her tone for him. "I do hear quite a bit about you from time to time, speaking with Carl, and Davis as well."

He nodded, setting his glass on the counter. "I've been hearing stories about you since I was a boy. You're practically a legend to my uncle."

"I've known him for a long time, honey."

Jesse hesitated, then added, "And my dad - he mentioned this new guy he met, down in Iowa. He's at your place, isn't he? He sounds pretty important."

At that, Ms. Riordan gave him a smile that transformed her pretty face into something stunningly beautiful.

"Yes. James. James is one of the most valued members of my staff, Jesse. He's an amazing chef, and as one of my managers? I couldn't do without him, really. He's been with staff for.. oh my, it must be over a dozen years now."

"Mmmm." Jesse considered this, leaning against the sink. "My dad's got a real thing for him. He... well, until a couple years ago, he was  _Uncle Davis_  to me..."

"I know, sweetheart. I didn't particularly agree with the decision to hide your true parentage, but it certainly wasn't mine to make, nor would it have been honest of me to circumvent it."

"Trust me, it was a damn surprise when he told me, pardon my French." Neither "Uncle Davis" nor "Aunt Shelby" had ever made the slightest insinuation that he was anything more than a favored nephew. When they'd finally told him the truth, he'd felt bewildered, and more than a little betrayed by his adoptive parents. Even now, years later, it rankled.

That elegant eyebrow arched again. "Mind your mouth, young man. I believe it's pronounced slightly differently  _en Francais._ I'm very glad they've spoken up with at least part of the truth that's to be had."

Jesse shrugged. It was abundantly clear to him that truth and Shelby had only ever been passing companions, but Davis... "I think I was surprised that Davis - that my dad didn't tell me sooner."

"He loves Bebe very much, honey."

That, too, was still true: no matter how gay Davis was, and no matter how devious and manipulative Shelby was, Davis would always be devoted to her.

Jesse had a sudden clear memory of his earliest tap recital at age six, headlining on the raised wooden stage sporting a sequined white vest, bow tie and too-tight shoes. Aunt Shelby had sat in the front row, beaming at him. Even Uncle Davis, who Jesse knew had been a dancer himself when he'd been a younger man, hadn't been nearly as proud of him as Shelby had been. After that, Aunt Shelby had played a significant role in his performance training. He just wanted to hang on to the source of that pride. He felt some of that, now, when he looked at Ms. Riordan.

She smiled at him still. "There you are, that's exactly what I meant, Jesse. Now. Perhaps you'd rather talk about a more popular subject - are you dating right now?"

"As a matter of fact, there's a girl I met recently at McKinley." Jesse grinned as his uncle Carl emerged from the doorway. Carl froze, darting a glance from Ms. Riordan and back to Jesse, and stood there, slack-jawed, as Jesse added, "Her name's Rachel. She's a talented performer - perhaps a little green, but I have high hopes for her to reach her full potential as she matures."

"And by what standard are you judging this young lady?" Ms. Riordan inquired. Carl shot her a look that Jesse might identify as pleading, and strode forward to touch Ms. Riordan on the arm, giving his head a frantic little shake.

"Jesse," Carl said, a little too loudly, smiling at him. "You - I didn't realize you were coming in  _tonight?_  But - it's good to see you, and, uh... I see you've met... Tess." He bit his lip, watching her face for a reaction. Jesse had never seen his uncle quite so  _tentative_ before. It was mildly unnerving.

"Yes - Jesse's a delightful young man, Carl, if a bit... undisciplined."

"Uh... yes." Now Carl's face was downright red, and he looked like was having trouble figuring out what to say next. Jesse watched him with curiosity.

Tess' arm slid around Carl's waist from behind, and Carl looked even more startled, if that was possible. "Perhaps we might consider supper," Tess said, turning to Carl, and as she reached out to him, presumably to straighten the collar of Uncle Carl's shirt, which was crooked, she accidentally dropped the book that had been in her hand. The report from the book hitting the floor seemed to echo more than it ought to, and Jesse watched as Carl turned a further shocking shade of red, then bent to pick it back up and hand it to her, which she received with a murmured thanks.

"Oh - yes." He stammered for a moment, getting a stack of dishes out of the cupboard. "Angela should be here shortly with the tuna steaks. She does this amazing thing with horseradish and hoisin sauce. Why don't the two of you - uh, actually, Tess, you can have a seat while Jesse and I set the table."

* * *

"What are your plans this evening, Finn?" Carole asked at breakfast on Wednesday. It was strange to be alone with his mother for a meal, and at their own house. More often than not these days, they were all crammed around the oval table at the Hummel house for morning and evening meals, with barely enough chairs to manage - Sarah usually sat on the piano bench.

He poured himself a third bowl of cereal and tried to hide his grimace. "Well, according to the relationship calendar that Rachel gave me that's in my locker, we have a date tonight, but we're not really dating anymore... so I don't know."

Carole smiled gently. "You don't  _have_  to go out with her, even if you are dating."

"She's pretty persuasive," Finn said. He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. "I guess I could give the tickets to Kurt. He likes Phantom, right?"

"Burt's having a guest over tonight. I was wondering if you might want to be there." Carole swirled the juice in her glass. "You remember Tess Riordan?"

"Mistress  _Tess_  is coming over?" Finn blurted. "Uh - I mean..." He felt his face burning, and desperately looked at the floor.

"I know about Tessera, Finn, and about Tess' relationship to Carl." His mom's voice was far too understanding. He cringed at the implications. "You don't have to worry about pretending with me, remember?"

"I'm trying not to," he muttered. The kitchen table felt suddenly small and cramped. He resisted the urge to get up and pace the room. "Why... why is she coming to visit?"

"Burt invited her. I think he could use her support." She sounded amused. "It might have something to do with the things his son is doing with  _my_ son..."

" _God,_  mom." Finn dropped his spoon into his milk, covering his face. "I'm  _really_  not ready to talk about that with you!"

Carole stood and cleared the table. Her smile was placid. "There's no point in being embarrassed. I'm not going to ask for details, but... really, honey, you and Puck and Kurt, you're not subtle." She paused behind the door of the fridge, adding, "Or quiet."

" _Mom!"_

"I don't really think there's a way  _to_  spank someone quietly," she went on.

Finn considered crawling under the table, but he didn't think he would fit anymore, not since he'd grown six inches his freshman year. He buried deeper into his arms and moaned.

"Finn..." He felt his mom's hand on his back, and heard her sigh. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but it's important to me you have a person to turn to with these... big issues. You're still a young man, and you shouldn't have to handle this alone. If you won't talk to me, would you at least talk to Tess?"

He jerked back, turning to look at her. "I - um." He hesitated, then nodded. "I think I could do that."

"All right. How about this. Burt and I will take Kurt and Puck to the play after dinner. If she asks, you can tell Rachel you couldn't make it because you had family obligations. I'm sure she'll understand that. The two of you can stay here and have some time alone." She hugged him with one arm around his shoulders, resting her head against his from behind. "Would that be okay?"

"Yeah, mom." He paused, trying to figure out what else to say, but finally just settled on, "Thanks."

He couldn't see her face, but he could feel her smile. "How's Kurt doing? He's looking forward to this trip to California, isn't he?"

"So much," he agreed. "Kurt and Puck both, but Kurt... yeah. Especially." Finn thought about the conversation he'd had with Adam the night before, about their upcoming visit to California, and what kind of  _things_  Kurt and Puck and Adam might be doing together once they got there. He tried not to sigh. "It's... not so much about Lady Gaga anymore, but... I mean, that's great, too, but..."

"I had guessed." Her arm tightened around his shoulder, and he closed his eyes. "You're okay with that?"

_No._  "Sure." He shifted against her. "Don't I kind of have to be? Considering what I'm doing with Carl?"

"Not necessarily. You can have feelings, Finn, even if they're not rational."

Finn tried not to see the picture of Adam he had in his mind, cobbled together from pictures from the Internet and video he'd seen on TV, with Puck... or Kurt. "I don't really think I can in this case. Kurt... he wants this, and he already feels bad about wanting it. He's been so great about giving me what I need, and sticking with Puck... I  _can't_  stand in his way."

"Okay, honey. I get that." She kissed him. "Burt told me about something that happened the other day... about a Cheerios uniform?"

Finn winced. "Uh, yeah... it was bad. We were working on our Madonna numbers in Glee, and Karofsky and Rick, they took Kurt's clothes and left him a cheerleading skirt and top. He had to walk to his car like that." He shrugged, grinning. "Adam said he should just join the Cheerios and prove to everybody he didn't care."

"I love that idea!" Carole said, laughing. "And I think Kurt would be a great Cheerio." She put a hand on his back, putting a little pressure. Finn stiffened, because it was such a familiar gesture, one his mom had done before - but he'd never considered it in the context of the way he managed Kurt, or  _Patrick,_  before. "And everything is okay with you and Carl?"

"Yeah," he said softly. "He - uh. He said we might do something special for my birthday in a couple weeks." Carl's suggestion had been about that vague, and Finn wasn't entirely sure what it might include, but Finn's dreams were getting more creative and raunchy by the day.

"That's good. I'm glad you're happy." The pressure disappeared as his mother straightened up, and Finn let out a breath. "I have to get going to the hospital. Tess will be here for dinner tonight. I'll see you then, all right?"

"Yeah," he said, staring down into his cereal bowl. "See you then."

* * *

Tess watched Finn as he waved out the door, watching Burt and Carole following Puck and Kurt down the steps. "Have a good time," he called.

"We'll be late," Kurt said. "I don't think you should wait up."

Finn watched until they were all safely in their cars and pulling out into the street, and closed the door behind him with a sigh. "I'm kind of relieved I don't have to go," he said to Tess. "I mean, I love Kurt, like, a lot, and I would totally go to any musical he wanted me to go to, but... Phantom is a little over the top for me. Anything by Andrew Lloyd Webber kind of gives me hives."

Tess raised an eyebrow at him. "Yet the man is one of the most successful playwrights..."

"Oh, don't get me wrong," Finn said, holding up a hand. "He's got some good songs... but really, I've never had much of a taste for musicals. Kurt's the one who likes that stuff." He turned the porch light on and checked the lock on the door before turning off the light in the vestibule and coming back into the dining room.

Tess smiled at him. She patted the couch next to her invitingly. "Come sit with me, Finn. I'm glad for the chance to talk with you."

"That's really nice of you, Tess," he said, smiling gratefully. "I'm kind of glad for the same thing. This has been a... crazy month." He ran a tentative hand over the back of his neck and sank into the cushion next to Tess. "Uh. Carl's talked to you, I guess."

"About how he's feeling, Finn. Very little about the details of what's developing between the two of you, that's confidential information to him, and he doesn't have your permission to talk to me about all of it. You're the only one who can tell me what's going on in your heart and in your head, hmm?"

Finn was silent for a moment, his eyes on his lap. "I'm really... well. Happy? And... sometimes it's a little overwhelming, but... I like it." He cast a pleading gaze at her. "I never expected to... like it. Like this."

She laughed, a light and easy sound. "Oh Finn. No one ever does. That's perfectly normal, honey. What's so overwhelming, sometimes?"

"Well, it's only been a couple months since I started everything with Kurt and Puck. Before that, I think I would have told you I was straight." His grin made Tess laugh again. "Yeah. Really. It's been amazing, and I'd never change a thing, but... it's a lot, all at once, sometimes. Just being with guys, and... and the spanking stuff, and the way Kurt and Puck wanted me to take care of them. I was really glad to give it to them, you know?" He shook his head ruefully. "I  _never_  thought I would be on the other end. But here I am."

Tess reached over and patted his knee. "I understand, Finn. I can tell you that I truly value a person who can be open - especially to their own self - about their sexual desires, and give themselves permission to just love, and be happy. It does feel alarming, though, doesn't it? I've felt the same myself in the past."

"Really?" He looked surprised and grateful to hear it. "I guess I'm scared sometimes, but - never in the moment. I mean, when it's just me and Carl, I..." He glanced away, his face red.

"Then you need to tell yourself to stop fooling about, Finn. Stop overthinking things, or thinking about what you look like to other people - what matters the most is how you look to yourself. Do you understand?" Her voice was compassionate and firm, her grey eyes steady.

"I'm not - " He stopped, and sighed. "Yeah. You're right. I do kind of think too hard about this. Hard to believe,  _me_ , thinking too much." He laughed, shaking his head.

"Oh,  _Finn_ ," she scolded. "You know better, young man. So, things are starting to feel comfortable with you and Carl, then?"

He put one hand over his eyes and rubbed his forehead ruefully. "Um. Yeah. Comfortable." He peeked out between his fingers. "Can you believe he's the one who's telling us to slow down?"

"Finn," she remarked, a little sternly, "That sounds like a good idea to me. The best relationships are ones that are built up slowly. There's nothing to be gained from rushing a relationship that requires a deep level of trust." She gave him a frown and a pointed glance. "As a matter of fact, I'm fairly certain that you and Noah have an idea of what happens when you rush the trust in a relationship."

Finn nodded soberly. "I got it, Tess. I really understand that, trust me. I mean - me and Puck, we're doing pretty well, but - we're not doing any of  _that._  Not anymore." He cast a desperate look at the wall. "I'm just wishing things could move a little faster. Don't you remember what it's like to be sixteen? It's kind of a lot, waiting for... everything."

Tess' face hardened, and Finn shrank back at the stark look. "I remember sixteen very well, Finn. I started college at sixteen, and I put every fiber of my existence into my classes, and doing well. I wasn't paying attention to boys, or girls, or dating, in any way."

Finn looked impressed. "Wow. I wish I could do that. School's never been my strong suit. I mean, I do okay, but..." He shrugged.

"And has Carl addressed that with you at all?" she asked sweetly.

"I get my homework done," he said, lacing his fingers together in his lap. "Mostly. I don't usually have any big issues with that, but I'm not like Kurt, you know - he's the smart one."

Her frown grew in severity. "That's quite enough of that, Finn. Perhaps I should suggest to Carl that he take that attitude in hand, it's quite unattractive. You are capable of anything you put your mind to - it's a matter of how much effort you apply, Finn.  _Getting your homework done_  doesn't sound like the road to academic success to me."

Finn looked startled. "Um. I'm sorry, I don't - I don't think I understand."

"Let's look at this in a different way. I know Carl very well, honey. Carl isn't going to fall for a stupid man. Carl prefers his partners to be thoughtful and intelligent. You're telling me you're not doing everything you can in school, and - it may just be my opinion, but here it is - that's a mistake, and if you were mine, I'd be disciplining you for it."

Finn's face was growing steadily more red as she spoke, and he was directing his determined expression to the carpet. "So what do you think I should be doing instead? I mean, honestly, but I don't see schools lining up to throw scholarships at an average student football player with a mediocre record and a reasonably good high B." He sighed. "And you can bet my mom can't afford school for me, otherwise."

"Do you know what the minimum GPA is to get into 95% of the schools in the USA is?" He shook his head. "It's a 3.0, Finn. That is a B average. And it's not your place to say what your mother can or cannot do - there are ways, and ways, and ways to get through school, financially. Your job,  _right now,_  is to succeed as best as you can. And think how much better it will look for scholarships if you up that average by even a half point - to a B+, or an A-. Don't compromise your future with a lackadaisical attitude like that."

Finn nodded slowly. "I get what you're saying, Tess, and... I appreciate it. I really do. I want to be... the kind of guy who makes it. I don't have to do anything flashy, or fancy, or be on the stage or... or win an award or anything. I just want to take care of my family, you know?" He pressed his lips together. "Not that I know exactly what  _that's_  going to look like, yet, but -"

"Finn Hudson," she barked. "If you want to 'make it,' then I would expect that you would put forth the utmost effort, so that there are as many possibilities for yourself as possible."

He nodded again. "If you think so," he said. "I know I can try harder. I just never really figured it was worth it."

"Then try harder. I believe," she said, tapping a thoughtful finger atop his hand, "that I shall speak to Carl about that. You are _more_  than worth it, and if it has to be spanked into you, then so be it."

Finn's smile was wry and calm. "Yeah," he agreed. "We've done plenty of that."

Tess snorted. "And you're comfortable?"

He hesitated. "Yes," he began, then stopped. "I mean - yes, it's really awesome. I just wish... well, I guess I have to be happy with the way things are. I can't push it any faster than... than he thinks we should go."

"What is it that you want to push, Finn?" Her voice was calm, and the expectant look was almost commanding.

"I feel a little strange talking about my... my sex life with you," he murmured.

"So you want to push things sexually," came the placid reply. "And if you think for one moment that your sex life involves something I've never heard of before, you've got another thing coming, young man. If you don't want to talk about it, you certainly don't have to."

"No, it's - it's fine," he said, his face red. "I'm just used to keeping it to myself. It's not the kind of thing I can really talk about with the guys in the locker room, you know?"

"Oh honey. All right." She paused, thoughtful. "You should have someone you can ask. I realize that most boys would ask a father-figure, but I can see that Burt... well." She smiled. "Yes. Finn. If you want or need to ask anything, you are very welcome to ask me, or call me, at any time, all right? I'm pretty unshockable." She gave him a slightly mischievous grin.

That got her a laugh. "Okay, yeah, I got that."

"Maybe I should tell you," she mused, glancing at him.

He looked up, startled. "Uh - ?"

"Well. It's no secret that I've had boys of my own, over the years, honey. Some of them have been simply disciplinary agreements, or mentoring situations - some of them eventually were sexual. Perhaps I should share with you just how long I've made a boy wait for that, with me?"

He eyed her in consternation. "I - don't think I want to know," he admitted. "Because a couple weeks is pretty much killing me, already. And I'm  _having_  sex with two other guys."

"One of the best, longest relationships I have had with one of my boys - we're still close, honey, though it's friendship these days, now that I have John - that boy waited two years, Finn, before I permitted anything of the sort."

He visibly winced. "Oh," he whispered.

"He needed to wait. There were circumstances, around which I can't break his confidence. I'm not telling you that you will have to be patient for that long, not by any means. But he cared, that much, and so did I, that I waited that long before acting on my own desire, and he obeyed, which in and of itself was a very beautiful, and precious act of love on his part. He never stopped asking, Finn, but he never pushed, and he simply waited."

Finn rested his elbows on his knees, thinking in silence for a good minute before he responded. "I do trust him, to tell me when it's the right time," he said. "But I can't pretend I don't want it to go faster."

"That's  _all right,_  Finn. There's nothing wrong with wanting, there's nothing wrong with telling Carl what you're wanting - you're his boy, love. All you need to do is obey." Her look was stern and compassionate at the same time.

Finn nodded soberly. "I can do that. I think I've been doing - all right."

"I expect your backside will find out about it if you're not, love. Your mother is comfortable with Carl?"

"She's met him," he said. "A couple times. He's very polite to her. But - " He looked thoughtful. "He really doesn't show who he  _actually_  is to very many people. I don't think Puck or Kurt have really seen him. Not really."

Tess nodded. "That's all right, love. That's part of who Carl is: he's a very private person. As time goes on, if he sees that your mother, and Puck, and Kurt truly want to know him, that will happen - but I will tell you, Finn, it will be a slow process, if I know Je- Carl." She cleared her throat again, to hide the slip.

"It's okay." The look on Finn's face was hard to mistake for anything but what it was: simple devotion. "I understand why he does it. We go to Irene's coffeehouse in Columbus together, and we can be out there, but around here, we're trying to be - careful. I can't really talk about him with anyone else."

"You may talk about him with me," she declared firmly. "And you can be assured that unless I inform you otherwise, anything that you say to me is confidential, Finn - which means that I'm not dialing Carl's number after talking to you, unless I've told you that I'm going to do so. Do you understand?"

"Thanks," he said, nodding solemnly. "I appreciate that."

"And," she said leaning forward to him a little. "I promise to stick to the subject at hand, and not scold about your grades, if you need to speak with me about Carl, or how you're feeling about him. That's something that falls under the term 'full disclosure' which Carl can tell you more about - not something you need to go intently asking for, honey, but it's something that will come up eventually. All right?"

Finn struggled visibly with his embarrassment for just a few more moments before he sighed. "Okay. So - when Kurt and me were starting this, we were kind of - learning together, right? I mean, I didn't know anything about spanking, or tools, or - or collars, or  _anything,_ until Puck started asking for it. And I was cool with it. I mean, it felt right. It was just part of what we did." He raised a hopeful eyebrow at her. "Do you know what I mean?"

"Absolutely. And I've talked with Kurt, and Puck, about that a little, honey - and you did absolutely right. You explored it, you looked for what felt  _right_  for all of you, and that was so good."

He let out a breath. "Okay. Yeah. So, when we were starting to get to know Carl, I guess - it was hard for me to think of it as anything except part of - part of how two people were, together. When they have... sex." He blushed. "Except we weren't having any of that."

"When you met Carl, that was on my recommendation, love. Did you think of sex with him, that first interview? Or during the visit that I had here before, where all of us were in his office?"

"Um... yeah?" he said softly. Then he covered his face with his hand, clearly mortified. "God. I really did."

Tess thought for a moment. "Carl's business partner. Davis? Did you think of sex with him?"

This startled Finn. "With  _Davis?_  No. I mean, he's good-looking, but... no, I didn't want... I mean, I don't want to  _do_  anything with him."

"This may sound a little off track, but name two more male authority figures in your life for me, please."

Finn thought about that. "Mr. Schuester," he offered. "And Burt."

"Have either of them ever disciplined you in any way - I know Mr. Schuester is your teacher, has he had you serve detention, or anything like that?"

"Um... I don't think so." He looked confused.

"Have either of them ever scolded you? So that you felt guilty, perhaps?"

Again, Finn took this question seriously, thinking about it for a good minute before responding. "Maybe. I don't remember a time, though. I'm usually - I try to do the right thing."

"It sounds like you're a good boy," Tess soothed. "Even good boys make mistakes - have you ever made a mistake, and talked to your teacher, or Burt about it?"

The look of concentration on Finn's face was almost comical. "Um... I don't think so..."

Tess sighed. "All right. Have either of them ever given you an order, or direction that you maybe didn't want to follow - but because you're a good boy, you followed those orders or directions anyways?"

He shook his head. "No. It's not like that. I don't - people don't tell me what to do.  _I_ tell me what to do. I've always wanted to do the right thing, just because it was - the right thing. And..." He paused, and blushed again. "When Carl tells me what to do,  _I really want to._  But not for me."

"Finn," she said, her voice urgent, and expectant, and she paused right there.

"Tess?"

"Stand up, right now," she barked, in perfect parade ground voice, watching him closely.

He startled, and blinked at her, and then got to his feet.

"You just obeyed me, didn't you, Finn."

"Yes?" He looked around himself, clearly confused.

"That must have seemed like an order to you, hmm? And you obeyed me. Finn, look at me," she said, rising from her seat to stand before him. "That's power, Finn. You're a good boy, to obey me," she said in a voice of velvet. "You know that, in your heart. And... do you want me, Finn? Do you want more from me?"

"No," he said hastily. "No, of course not. I just - it seemed like the right thing to do. I mean, I respect you, and I think you deserve my, uh, obedience?"

"Yes, I know, honey. And thank you. Sit back down here with me." He sat, a little closer to Tess this time. "That proves a little point, in a way. It's not the orders. It's not the feeling of respectful obedience, isn't it?" She reached out for his hand. "It's  _Carl."_

His breath caught in his throat, and he shuddered it out. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes. It is."

Tess rested a hand on his shoulder. "That's what I was asking, Finn. Thank you for being honest with me; there's a good boy. Carl knows you're a good boy, and he's trying to do his utmost to ensure that you have everything a good boy deserves. He's being careful, and I think it's a good thing. Can you find a little more patience in that? Carl has so much to show you. Just let it grow, and be strong."

She watched his head drop lower as she spoke, until it was hanging between his shoulders, and he was nodding. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "I can do that."

"I knew you could. I needed to know that  _you_  knew you could, Finn. May I have a hug, honey?"

Finn broke into a smile. "You bet."

Tess held out her hand, welcoming him in, letting him move forward into her embrace. She cradled his head on her shoulder, and ran a fond hand over his hair. "There's a good boy, thank you, Finn."

"Thank you, Tess," came Finn's quiet response. "For listening. It's nice to be understood."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Puck returns from California, has a prophetic dream (what's new), babysits Duncan and Cory, has dinner with Shelby Corcoran and gets an upsetting phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This falls near the end of While We Got the Chance to Say. If you haven't yet read that story, you might want to read it before going on, as there will be spoilers.

Puck decided he really didn't care for flying. It wasn't the going up and down he disliked, or even the noise of the engine, which was annoying enough. It was being forced to sit in one place for hours on end, with only a tiny cramped bathroom as a respite. He shifted from one butt cheek to another, sighing in annoyance. No matter how tired he was, sleep wasn't coming.

"You okay?" asked Brad, looking away from the window. The clouds blanketed the bottom half of his view, and above them was nothing but perfect blue sky. Puck scowled at him.

"I guess," he muttered. "Not sure what I have to be okay about."

Kurt was still in California, for one. Puck wasn't upset about that, nor would he have begrudged Kurt time alone with Adam, ever. But it wasn't like Kurt was staying because he wanted to. Kurt's ear infection had been bad enough that Adam's doctor had advised him to reschedule his flight to Wednesday.

Meemee, that was another. At the last minute, Meemee had decided to stay in California to work with Gaga, as Puck had pretty much assumed he would, anyway. But then it turned into this crazy hookup with Adam's security guard, of all people, who was supposedly straight. Puck had never felt protective of Meemee before, but he'd gone all crazy on Jacob's ass, because - well, really, the last thing his big brother needed was another thing to hurt about.

So now here he was, flying back alone with Brad and Finn. No Adam, no Kurt... which left Finn.

He wasn't at all sure where they stood these days. Even after the visit with Gaga, even though he and Kurt and Finn had spent time together, and those hopeful moments when Adam had called Finn his third Top... it still wasn't clear.

_We're fucking,_  Puck thought, watching Finn's own restless movements,  _and it's not bad. It's just not really what he needs. Or what I need._ That was patently obvious, after this weekend spent with Adam in charge of him. It had felt like such -  _freedom,_  to wear the collar and cuffs in Adam's house, to be so clear about his role there. He knew it couldn't be like that at home. For one thing, he had to go to school every day, and work at the garage. And he was going to be a  _papa,_ for fuck's sake. There was no way he could take care of a baby at the same time he was putting all the control into the hands of others. A brief image of himself wearing a collar like that in front of  _Burt_  drifted across his consciousness, and shook his head, amused. No matter how cool he played it, Burt sure as shit wouldn't handle that very well.

The discipline... yeah, he wanted it from Finn. But the last time they'd tried it, he'd freaked out. Could he trust him enough to let him that close again? He knew there had been a time when he'd trusted Finn as much as he trusted Adam, but he had no idea how to find his way back to that. Leaving Adam behind was like cutting off a piece of his body, but Adam had told him it would be okay, and he had believed him. It wasn't even a question. The trust was there, implicit, no questions, completely outside of reason. But Finn... how could he accept that Finn actually knew what he needed, when things had gone so wrong?

And then there was  _Patrick._  Puck felt a stab of jealousy. Finn wanted to be in charge of  _him_. Yeah, he could say it wasn't sexual all he wanted, but Puck didn't see it that way. He  _was_  getting sex from Finn, and no matter how good it was, he couldn't say with complete certainty that it was ever going to be enough, without the other stuff. That... was freaking terrifying.

"It was a heck of a weekend," Brad said, interrupting his thoughts. "There's a lot to think about. For all of us." He looked even more pensive than usual. "Gaga and I had a long afternoon together, working through her latest music. She wants me to come back next month."

"Hey, wow." Puck grinned at Brad, surprised. "You two really hit it off, huh?"

Brad smiled and nodded. "Musically, I don't think I've been this inspired since college. It's surprising. Timothy spent a lot of time this weekend getting me up to speed with some of the equipment he uses to do his digital mixes. I learned a ton." He gestured with his head in the vague direction of California. "It seems like he's planning to stay out there."

"Yeah. I kind of figured he would. He never really sticks around Ohio for very long, and he's happier in LA, anyway."

"He does appear to be comfortable with Gaga. And then... there's Jacob?"

"Yeah." Puck wrinkled his nose. "I have no idea what to think about that, but I guess Meemee's happy. I've got to trust..." He avoided Finn's eyes. "Trust that he's getting what he needs. That Jacob's not going to leave him, or... or expect something from him he can't give."

Brad nodded. "Well, it might be a new experience for Jacob, but I don't think either of them are unhappy. I suspect this means enough to both of them that they'll be willing to take some risks."

"Yeah, maybe." Puck turned his face back to the window, wedging his pillow in the space between the wall and his seat, and closed his eyes. He would have liked to have felt Finn's leg bumping against his, but Finn had to sit on the aisle to fit in the narrow seats, so he stayed where he was, huddled in his own space. Eventually, he slept.

* * *

_The room was dark, less like a nightclub than a dim piano bar, and there were little glowing lights on every table. Puck couldn't quite make out the expressions on people's faces, but the atmosphere seemed subdued, even somber. Then he saw Finn._

_Finn's face was blotchy and stained with tears, but he wasn't crying now. Now he was on stage next to a dark-haired guitarist, clutching a microphone, leaning forward into the audience to share the anguish pouring off of him._

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vPxgat9Sd4w>

_Another night slowly closes in,_   
_And I feel so lonely._   
_Touching heat freezing on my skin,_   
_I pretend you still hold me._   
_I'm going crazy, I'm losing sleep._   
_I'm in too far, I'm in way too deep over you._   
_I can't believe you're gone.  
_ _You were the first, you'll be the last._

_It was another cheesy 80s rock ballad, of which Finn had always been so fond. Puck didn't know the name of the song, but it was familiar, and if he'd been there, he would have sung along. Fuck, he could have gone up to the stage to stand beside him, to put an arm around his shoulder, and give him some encouragement. Whatever he was going through, it clearly sucked._

_Wherever you go, I'll be with you._   
_Whatever you want, I'll give it to you._   
_Whenever you need someone_   
_To lay your heart and head upon._   
_Remember: after the fire, after all the rain,_   
_I will be the flame.  
_ _I will be the flame._

_In the completely ordinary bizarre nature of dreams, Kurt was there, serving drinks in a french maid outfit. But Finn wasn't looking at him, and his yearning and seeking didn't seem to be anything related to Kurt._

_Watching shadows move across the wall,_   
_I feel so frightened._   
_I wanna run to you, I wanna call,_   
_But I've been hit by lightning._   
_Just can't stand up for fallin' apart._   
_Can't see through this veil across my heart, over you._   
_You'll always be the one.  
_ _You were the first, you'll be the last._

_Wherever you go, I'll be with you._   
_Whatever you want, I'll give it to you._   
_Whenever you need someone_   
_To lay your heart and head upon._   
_Remember: after the fire, after all the rain,_   
_I will be the flame.  
_ _I will be the flame._

_Puck could suddenly see the identity of the guitarist, and he realized it was Carl. His face was sad and quiet, but he was steady on the accompaniment, and there wasn't anything that seemed to be happening between him and Finn._

_I'm going crazy, I'm losing sleep_   
_I'm in too far, I'm in way too deep over you._   
_You'll always be the one.  
_ _You were the first, you'll be the last._

_Just as the song drew to a close, Puck caught sight of the television mounted on the wall, and there was Adam, standing in front of a big screen, pointing out incoming storm systems and high and low temperatures with a bright smile on his face. No one in the audience clapped, they just bowed lower over their candle-lit tables, and the silence filled the room._

* * *

Puck groaned as he felt the twinge in his neck. Brad's soft voice sounded concerned.

"You okay, Puck?"

"Yeah. Sleeping on an airplane  _sucks._  I don't know how Adam does it." His eyes opened suddenly, and he saw Finn on the other side of Brad, trying not to look at him. "Fuck, Adam was doing the  _weather._  Talk about trippy."

"Weird dream, huh?" asked Brad.

"I'm always having weird dreams. But the guy who - I mean, this one was about different people than usual." There had been no curly-haired boy in attendance, nor was his blonde child there. "There was a song... I don't know. It was just depressing. Like a funeral or something."

"Well, we'll be landing in about twenty minutes, so things'll be back to normal." Brad sighed. "Now I've got to find another babysitter. Kurt was going to watch Duncan and Cory tonight."

"Big date?" Puck grinned at the expression on Brad's face. "You guys have been together a long time."

"Almost fifteen years. It's an anniversary, of sorts. I'd hate to cancel, especially after being gone all weekend."

Puck was surprised to hear Finn's voice, he'd been so quiet through the entire plane ride. "Uh... Puck's really good with kids. He practically raised his sister."

Both Puck and Brad turned to face Finn in surprise. "You think so?" he asked.

"Dude, Quinn told me you were, like, the kid-whisperer with Terri's sister's triplets. And I've seen you with Sarah since we were younger than her. It's kind of awesome."

"Huh." Brad swiveled back to Puck with a hopeful expression. "What do you say? Think you can handle my two little monsters for an evening? We pay the going rate. It's not much, but..."

Puck was still staring at Finn, hearing the words  _Puck's really good with kids_  come out of his mouth. A little fire kindled in the middle of his stomach, and he felt himself flush. "Uh... sure. Yeah, no problem. Let me know what time I should be there."

* * *

Puck knew how kids worked, so when Duncan's first words to him were, "Where's Kurt?" he didn't get sad or freak out. He grinned.

"Kurt's got a really bad earache. You know, like a tummyache, only in your ear. We're going to make him a get-well card. If you're really good, maybe we can even send him a text message later."

"Cool!" shouted Duncan. He turned around and scampered back into the house, calling, "Cory, Kurt's got a stomachache in his  _ear."_

Laurie was standing by the kitchen table, grinning with bemusement at Puck while she fastened her earrings. "You're full of surprises, knavish sprite," she said, nodding at his guitar. "I see you brought a bag of tricks."

"That, and a few other things." He set it down behind the dining room table. "Better tell me all the important stuff before I get distracted. My teachers always said I had a rotten attention span."

"Emergency numbers on the fridge. Their usual bedtime routine starts at 7:30, and Cory will be absolutely certain to tell you if you've made  _any_  changes or mistakes or got things out of order. Trust me. No sugary snacks or milk after brushing teeth. Pajamas and pull-ups are in the bathroom. You willing to give a bath?"

"Sure," he said, shrugging. "Can I throw them both in together?"

"If you don't mind the resulting tsunami, no. You can call if they're being obnoxious and Andi'll talk some sense into them. They'll try to convince you to tell them endless stories, but we find it easier to read first, then go to bed and just tuck them right in." She looked around the room, and shrugged. "That's about it, I think? Anything else you need, just call us."

"No problem, Mrs. E." Puck saw Cory's white-blonde head peeking around the edge of the couch, and he sat down at the table, spreading out paper and markers and other paraphernalia. "Have a good time. We'll be cool."

Duncan came tearing down the hall toward them, and climbed onto a chair and had a pencil in his hand in about three seconds. Cory, meanwhile, still stood in the exact same spot, watching them from behind the couch.

"I want to draw a picture of dinosaurs eating their prey!" Duncan declared.

Puck nodded solemnly. "Well, usually when I do a get-well card for somebody, I try to keep it PG. No rending flesh, okay? How about you draw your family? Tell me their names and I'll write them here at the bottom."

Duncan scooted his chair closer to Puck's, handing him a blue marker. "Daddy. Mommy, and Meema. Cory. Toby. Uncle Will."

"... Uncle Toby, Uncle Will..." Puck recited under his breath.

"Not  _uncle_  Toby." Duncan gave him a scornful look. "He's just  _Toby."_

"I'm Puck, and I'm your friend, but I'm not on here."

"Toby's not my friend. He's my... my Toby." Duncan looked more perplexed now. It was a good look on him. He tossed his dark curls out of his face. " _Now_  can I draw a dinosaur?"

"We'll do a big mural later," Puck promised, tapping the paper. "Here, match the people with the names. I want color, detail, the whole shabang."

While Duncan bent his head to his work, Puck knelt down on the floor, not too close to the couch, holding a piece of paper in his lap. He took the marker and started with a circle.

"This is my sister, Sarah," he said, as though talking to himself. "She has long hair. When she was little she used to let me braid it. Now she mostly lets it be curly."

He added a second figure next to Sarah. After a minute, he felt a soft hand on his shoulder. Cory's white-blonde hair wasn't quite like the girl's from his dream, but it was close enough that he felt a stab in his gut.

"Who's that?" said Cory, a finger in her mouth.

"My brother. He has a funny name. Want to hear it?"

She nodded, her eyes wide.

"You sure? It might make you laugh."

She giggled in anticipation, leaning against his shoulder. Duncan hung down off the chair, interested.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Meemee," said Puck. Duncan almost fell onto the floor laughing, but Cory just took it in with a thoughtful frown.

"That's like my Meema," she said seriously. "Or like Mommy. They both have an M sound."

"Yeah," he said, impressed. "You want to help me write his name? I'll tell you the letters."

"Cory can do it," said Duncan, already back to his own paper. "She can read and everything."

Puck handed her the marker, and Cory took it, her wet finger leaving a little trace of coolness on his hand. "Go for it, kiddo," he said.

"My name's  _Cory,"_  she said severely, and he blinked.

"Sorry. Cory."

"It's not really," Duncan sang out. "It's really Coraline. There's a scary book about a girl who can see ghosts and stuff. And there's even a  _movie_  about her. But it's not really about Cory, it's about another girl named Coraline."

"Meemee," Cory said, carefully writing the M, then an E. Then she hesitated. "Another E?"

"Bingo," Puck said with a grin. "Boy, you're smart."

Cory didn't respond to this, but she laboriously printed the rest of the letters in MEEMEE. Then she handed the marker back to Puck. He hesitated, then added a figure for himself, totalling three.

"That's it," he said. Cory gave him an incredulous look.

"You have a little family," she said.

Puck felt his throat close up, at the accusation, and he turned away to avoid her stare. "Why don't you make a card for Kurt, Cory?"

"Kurt!" Duncan shouted. " _He's_  your family, too. Right? Meema told me. And Finn. You have three, like we have three."

_Three._ Puck swallowed the stupid tears that threatened. "Yeah. Maybe. I mean... okay, we do. Actually - there's one more, but..." He shrugged. "I really don't know if he's family or not."

"I think if you want someone to be family, you have to ask," Duncan decided. "And if he says yes, then he is."

The very idea of saying the word  _family_  to Adam made Puck's heart pound. "Yeah, I don't think I'm quite ready for that yet." He stretched out flat on the floor, pushing a piece of paper over to Cory. She didn't actually pick up a marker, but she sat down right next to him, holding the paper.

"What about  _your_  Mommy and Daddy and Meema?" asked Duncan.

"Well, first of all, I don't have a Meema. I had a Ma, but she died. And my dad, he's a jerk."

Duncan kicked the table. "Cory's a jerk sometimes, but she's still in my family."

The logic of this was hard to refute, and Puck didn't really have the energy to try to convince Duncan otherwise. He took the marker again and pointed it at Duncan. "Fine. But if I have to draw my asshole dad, I get to draw Burt and Carole too."

"Who are they?"

"Kurt's dad and Finn's mom." He drew Kurt holding hands with Finn, who towered over the rest of them. "They're better than parents. And Burt is Sarah's Tatenui. Uh, that's like a daddy."

Cory watched as he finished his picture. "Now you have a  _big_  family."

Puck stared at the figure of his dad, off in the corner. "Um. I think I have to add one more." Between himself and Kurt, he drew a smaller figure, using the yellow to add a little tuft of hair. "This is my daughter. She's not born yet, but she will be in a couple months."

"You're going to have a  _baby?"_  Duncan looked impressed. "Boys can't do that. Can they?"

He laughed. "Pretty sure they can't. No, there's a girl, Quinn. She's growing the baby."

"So she's in your family too," said Duncan.

"No-ooo," Puck said slowly. "Not really. I mean..." He rested his head in his hand. "God, this is fucking complicated."

Cory crept under his arm and made a nest in his lap. She rested her head against his chest, snuggling into him. "Too complicated?" she asked.

"I don't know. Maybe." He put his arms around her and held her close, and she didn't object. She smelled familiar, like baby soap and little girl smell. "I don't think it's too complicated. I just don't think I deserve all these people."

Duncan held up his picture. "All done!"

The three of them surveyed the drawing.

"I have a lot of people, too," he added hesitantly. "Does... that mean I don't deserve them all, either?"

Puck opened his mouth to protest, and felt the shock reverberate through his system. He stared Duncan right into his eyes - brown eyes, nothing like Brad's blue ones.

"No," he said, as firmly as he could without scaring the kid. "No way. You deserve... everybody. Everybody who loves you. That's your family. Come on, I'll help you write GET WELL KURT."

* * *

They were asleep before Puck finished the second book. He did give them kind of a long bath, but that was because Duncan turned out to have a fascination with pirates, and they made a damn mess of the bathroom floor with sea monster waves and everything. Puck turned out the light in their room and mopped up the floor in the bathroom, and tidied the kitchen from their bedtime snack. Then he flopped on the couch and picked up his phone, dialing Adam's number.

"It's weird," he said, when Adam picked up, before he could even say hello. "We've been doing this for weeks, talking every night, but... I just  _saw_  you this morning."

"Yeah." Adam was quiet for a moment. "I'm still glad to hear your voice. I missed you."

"Fuck," he whispered, and let the tears come. "So fucking stupid. I miss you, too."

"Not stupid. There's somebody here who'd like to talk to you. Can I put you on speaker?"

"Yeah." Puck knew it would be Kurt, knew exactly what his voice would sound like, and it hadn't been any longer since he'd seen  _him,_  but apparently that didn't matter to his heart when he heard Kurt there with Adam.

"Sweetheart," said Kurt. "Where are you? Is Finn there?"

"No, I'm babysitting Cory and Duncan." Puck scrubbed his eyes with the heel of one hand. "I'm way cooler than you, apparently. They said you let them have  _cookies_ before bed? Dude."

"Oh - god." Kurt sounded aghast. "I forgot all about babysitting for Brad. He didn't say anything before you left."

"It's cool. I've got it covered."

"Thank you, Noah." He heard Kurt's smile, and it made him smile, too. Puck leaned his head back on the couch, imagining where they might be sitting, what they were wearing, all the ordinary things about Adam's house and his room and his bed and...  _okay, not thinking about that_. "I'm feeling better today."

"Yay modern medicine," said Puck. "And I'm not even sure if I should ask you guys what you've been up to all day."

"Relax. Adam made me rest all afternoon, after your plane took off. We got up and had some dinner, and sang a little. It's been a quiet day. How is Finn?"

Puck closed his eyes, thinking of the family drawing, with Finn and Kurt holding hands. Adam wasn't even in the picture. Maybe he should have added him after all? "I don't know. He went right over to Carl's. I don't even know if he's going to be home tonight."

"Hey." That was Adam, his voice gentle. "You're not going to worry about that. Take care of the kids, then when you're done, go back to your place. Relax."

"Yeah." He felt the bare expanse of skin on his neck, and sighed, feeling each of the complicating factors of his life weighing him down. "Yeah, I guess I can do that."

"And school tomorrow."

That was the least of his worries. "Yeah. Oh, and I'm having dinner with that teacher - the one we met at Toby's."

"Ms. Corcoran?" Kurt again. Puck grinned at the tone of his voice.

"Don't freak out. She's not so bad. She's trying to buy me off, I guess, so I won't talk about seeing her at Carl's. Like I would  _tell_  anybody, anyway. Maybe it'll suck, but I don't know - she sounded like she knew what she was talking about."

Adam sounded bemused. "About the food, or about... Carl?"

"Both," he said, shrugging. "Whatever. I'll let you know what it's like."

Puck told them both good night. He didn't  _promise_  he would go straight to his apartment, and he felt a little guilty about that. He told himself he was just going to check on Finn, but he thought it might have more to do with Burt and Carole and Sarah.  _His family._  All those people, thinking they could depend on him. How many ways was he going to let them down before they gave up on him?

He was still stretched out on the couch, holding his phone in his hands, when Andi, Brad and Laurie came through the front door, snorting with undignified laughter.

"You guys have a good time?" he said, hauling himself to his feet.

Laurie dug in her purse and handed Puck two twenties. "It was a splendid evening of raunchy, child-inappropriate conversation. Just what we needed. Thanks so much. Did everything go okay? They look like they wore you out."

Puck tightened his hand on his drawing and shook his head, smiling a little. "Nah. They were great. Cory, she's got a lot going on inside that head of hers. Duncan made you a picture; I hung it on the fridge."

"Well, any time you want to come back, we'd love to have you babysit again." Laurie's smile was kind, and she rested a hand on his shoulder for a moment. "Kurt doesn't have to be sick for you to come over."

Puck picked up his guitar, nodding at Andi and Brad as he headed out the door. "Yeah... I'd like that."

He propped his drawing on the dash of his truck, next to the color printout of Adam's face, touching it with two fingers. Then he called Finn, but wasn't surprised when it went to voice mail. Finn'd be with Carl, and nobody was going to get in the way of that reunion, not even family.

_I could listen to what Adam told me,_  he thought, cranking the ignition on the truck.  _I could go back to the apartment and be alone. But I think right now I need a dad, or the next best thing, anyway._

Burt looked genuinely surprised to see him when he walked into the Hummel's kitchen. He slowly set down the beer he'd been opening. "Hey," he said. "Welcome back. I didn't think I'd see you tonight. Finn told me you were babysitting for Kurt?"

Puck nodded. He wasn't sure what to do with his hands, or where to stand, or what the fuck was going on for about five awkward seconds before Burt came over and gave him a hug. He felt his breath go in and out, and Burt's arms, warm and steady, and just hung on.

"Missed you," Burt said gruffly. It was quiet enough that Puck wasn't sure he'd heard it right, but when he pulled away, the expression on Burt's face told him he probably had.

"Yeah," he said. "Me, too. It's kind of weird to be here, with Kurt still there, and Adam, and Finn over at Carl's -"

"Not weird," Burt assured him. He indicated one of the kitchen stools. "You don't need them to be welcome here."

It was a lot like what Laurie had said. That wasn't quite what Puck had meant, but he nodded anyway, sitting down. He tried again. "We drew these get-well cards for Kurt, me and the kids. I made a picture of my family. It was... confusing."

He handed the drawing to Burt in silence, feeling his stomach knot as he watched him taking in the whole lot of them. Burt pointed. "This one's me?"

Puck nodded, looking away. "I'm not much of an artist, but what the hell."

Burt nodded back. Then he flashed him a grin. "Can I keep this?"

"Really?" It was kind of ridiculous how good it made him feel to hear Burt ask. Immediately on the heels of that good feeling he experienced a wash of relief, and he grinned back. "Um - I mean, yeah, of course."

There was a derisive noise by the doorway. "Figures my dorky brother'd get home and forget to even tell me."

"Hey, your dorky brother's got presents from LA." Puck opened his arms to Sarah's hug. "You want 'em or not?"

"That's how dorky you are, that you even have to ask. Dude, what's this?" She perched on Puck's knee and picked up his drawing. "Is that supposed to be  _me?_  I don't even have  _one_ earring."

Puck felt the juxtaposition of the memory of years-younger Sarah, sitting in his lap the way Cory had done earlier, with this preteen girl who looked a hell of a lot like his Ma right then. "Shut up," he said, and then hugged her again.

* * *

School was pretty lame without Kurt there to distract him and make him go to class, so Puck skipped math and wandered down to Ms. Pillsbury's office. She was pleased to see him, but she was always pleased to see everybody.

"Noah," she said. "How was your trip to California? Did you boys really meet Lady Gaga?"

"Oh - yeah," he said, blinking. For a moment, he forgot that had been the original reason for the vacation. He thought about the whole experience, and had to grin. "She was way awesomer than I expected. She let me make pasta sauce in her kitchen. And, hey, I ran into Neil Diamond in the grocery store. See, he autographed my bracelet."

He held it out to her. She looked a little startled. "Well, you hear stories about being in Los Angeles and running into famous people all over the place."

"Yeah," Puck said, grinning wider. "I met all kinds of people. My brother's kind of dating Adam Lambert's bodyguard."

"Timothy?" She shook her head, clearly bewildered. "He's - my goodness, I hadn't heard from him since he left school. How has he been?"

"He's running sound for Lady Gaga," he said. "That's how we got in contact with her to begin with. Kurt's still in LA, actually. He had an ear infection, so he's missing a couple days of school before he can fly home."

"Remarkable. I'm glad you had a good time. What an opportunity for Kurt - for all of you."

Puck knew Kurt was the really talented one of the bunch of them, and he didn't mind Ms. Pillsbury thinking that, too. He just nodded in fervent agreement. "Yeah. You have no idea how much. Hey... if you were going over to someone's house for a nice dinner, what would you bring with you?"

She looked a little thrown by his change in subject, but she gave it some thought. "Hmm - is this fancy? A date?"

He shook his head. "Not a date, but maybe you want to impress them a little."

"Well... you don't want to bring food, because you wouldn't want to imply you could do it better. Some people think it's not appropriate to bring a gift, because you don't want to make them feel obligated."

Puck wasn't sure how to say he was absolutely sure he could do better, and that he definitely wanted Ms. Corcoran to feel obligated. "So, a bottle of wine?"

She laughed. "You're not old enough to drink, Noah."

"Oh, yeah, I know. But she is." He shifted in his seat, trying to think things through, before he asked his next question. "Ms. P, Finn has been having kind of a hard time since he... since we fought."

She nodded soberly. "I thought you boys might still not be getting along. Mr. Schuester told me about what happened in last week, when David and Rick and the other hockey players threw slushies on you. Are they still giving you a hard time?"

"No, Finn's not doing  _that._  He's still... we're..." He sighed. "Look, can I tell you a secret? You know about me and Kurt, right?"

"I think I might have heard a rumor to that effect, yes." Ms. Pillsbury watched him with concern. "Is that why you and Finn were fighting?"

"No, he's cool with it. Really, he is. I'm trying to say, me, and Finn, we're - he's my -" Puck scratched his head. "How do you say  _fucking_  in a nice way?"

She looked as though he might have hit her with one of those cartoon frying pans. "You and... and  _Finn?"_

"Since October," he nodded. "It's me, and Finn, and Kurt. We're a triad, like Brad and Laurie and Andi. Um, you did know about them, right?"

"I... yes." She sat down very slowly at her desk, holding onto the edge. "This is a surprise."

"I thought maybe Mr. Schue already told you. You guys are kind of dating, aren't you?"

"He's my friend," she said absently, wrinkling her brow, like she couldn't quite grasp it. "You and Finn and...  _Kurt?"_

"Yeah. But me and Finn, it's been tough. I thought for a while maybe he didn't want it, and now I think he does, but... it's hard to believe it, after what he said, I guess." He played with the sleeve of his leather jacket, the one Kurt had bought him for Christmannukah. "It's like he's... far away. Like nothing I say really reaches him, and he's just somewhere else."

Ms. Pillsbury was making a valiant effort to pull herself together and focus. "Maybe he's changed his mind about dating boys?"

"Uh. No, I don't think that's it." Puck remembered the confident, sexy expression on Finn's face when he'd sang  _Hello_  by The Doors in Glee last week. It hadn't been a girl who'd put that look there, no matter what he said about Rachel. "Pretty sure Finn likes guys. I think he even likes  _me,_  just fine, at least for sex. But..." He sighed, the frustration overwhelming him again. "He doesn't really trust me anymore."

"Oh, Noah. I can't imagine that. I would think it would be more likely that Finn doesn't trust himself, right now." She gazed at him, troubled. "He cares about you, very much, and he hurt you. His expectations of himself might be too high for him to let you get close to him again."

"Huh." Puck tried to imagine how that could possibly be. Even if sometimes he needed the same kind of caretaking that Puck himself needed, Finn was...  _strong._ Puck could do things that needed to get done, but Finn made decisions. He thought about things, and had reasons. He wouldn't lose faith in himself. Would he?

"I don't care if he makes mistakes with me," he said, feeling the truth of it. "It's worth the risk. I just want him back, the way it was. I don't know how to tell him that."

Ms. Pillsbury smiled. "I think you just did."

Puck rose to his feet, buoyed by hope. "Hey... yeah. Maybe. Thanks, Ms. P."

"Any time, Noah." She handed him a pass, adding, "If you speak to your brother, would you ask him to drop me a note? He spent a lot of time in my office when I was a very young guidance counselor, and it would be good to know how he's doing now."

"Sure," said Puck. Where was Finn? He held up the pass. "Can you write Finn one of these to get him out of history so we can talk?"

"Talk." She considered him, and he watched her blush as she hesitated.

"I'm not gonna hump him in the hallway, Ms. P. I just need to tell him what I said to you."

"Neither of you need to miss any more class, Noah. You only have two more hours until Glee. I suspect you can wait until last period to... talk."

Puck left with the sneaking suspicion Ms. Pillsbury understood a lot more about teenagers than most grownups did. He managed to make it through to the end of the day, but all he could do was think about Finn.

He caught up to Finn on his way into Glee, grabbing his arm. Finn looked startled, almost scared.

"Hey," he said. "I've got to go rehearse with Rachel. Mr. Schue's got us all on these Madonna projects..."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Puck said. "This weekend, man. Things happened. We have to talk about it."

"It's not really the time," Finn muttered, ducking his head at Matt giving them a quizzical look as he passed them into the choir room. "You and Kurt..."

"Me and Kurt, we're fine. It's not about that." Puck leveled his stare at Finn. "You and me. This is about you and me. And last time I remember talking about this, you said you didn't care if anybody found out about us."

"I promised Burt I wouldn't tell anybody until Sarah's adoption was final," he whispered. His words, spoken so close to Puck's mouth, ghosted over his lips, and Puck leaned in closer. Finn took both hands and pushed him away, hard. Puck felt the shock inside. Finn's expression was equally hard.

"We can't do this now," he said, his breath a little uneven. "And tonight, you've got your thing, and I've... got mine."

"Yeah." Puck didn't mean the word to come out quite as sharp as it did, but he couldn't help pushing back a little with his words. "Didn't get enough last night?"

"No, it's... Santana. She's doing something for me." Now Finn couldn't meet his eyes. Puck stumbled back, eyes wide.

"What the hell?  _Santana?_ "

"Later," Finn hissed. He gave Santana and Brittany a sickly smile as they sauntered by. "Hey."

"Ready for tonight, Finnocence?" Santana purred.

"Looking forward to it," he said loudly. Rachel stared at him across the room, her face coloring. She stalked over.

"Why are you doing this?" she said in an undertone. "You can't be trying to make me jealous with Santana. I already know what's going on between the two of  _you."_

"Maybe I just wanted a date," Finn shrugged. "Why does it have to be a big deal?"

She glared at him. "I know you better than that, Finn. Now come on... we have to get this Madonna mashup right."

Puck could tell it was already too late. Finn wasn't acknowledging him anymore, and he couldn't talk in front of Rachel.  _Nothing's changed._ The hope he'd felt earlier drained away as Rachel towed Finn across the choir room, leaving Puck standing there alone as Mr. Schue approached.

"Hey, Puck," he said, smiling. "Welcome back. Can't wait to hear all about your trip. Any current inspiration for Madonna numbers?"

"Yeah." Puck swallowed his disappointment, trying a smile in return. "Yeah, I think I've got one that fits me just fine. Let me get my guitar and I'll play it for you."

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YUtvUFsPA6Y>

_There are too many questions_   
_There is not one solution_   
_There is no resurrection  
_ _There is so much confusion_

_And the love profusion_   
_You make me feel_   
_You make me know_   
_And the love vibration_   
_You make me feel_   
_You make it shine_

_There are too many options_   
_There is no consolation_   
_I have lost my illusions  
_ _What I want is an explanation_

_And the love profusion_   
_You make me feel_   
_You make me know_   
_And the love direction_   
_You make me feel  
_ _You make me shine_

_I got you under my skin_

_There is no comprehension_   
_There is real isolation_   
_There is so much destruction  
_ _What I want is a celebration_

_And I know I can feel bad_   
_When I get in a bad mood_   
_And the world can look so sad  
_ _Only you make me feel good_

* * *

Puck handed Ms. Corcoran the bottle of red wine as soon as she opened the door. She gave him a little frown.

"Should I bust you for underage drinking or applaud your taste in California reds?" she asked.

"I'm not asking to drink it," he said, stepping through the door as she held it open for him. "But I'll tell you it's awesome with beef, and I figured pretty even odds for you cooking red meat for this Ohio boy."

She laughed, her teeth flashing. "You're sharper than you let on, Noah. Tell me, how many times have you talked yourself out of a failed grade?"

"More times than my little sister could count," he said, grinning.

"Hmm. But how old is she?"

"Ten, now. No, wait - she turned eleven. Damn." He shook his head, following her into the kitchen. "Hard to believe. In my head she's still just a kid, but looking at her last night... she's growing up."

Ms. Corcoran studied him curiously. "You care about your little sister a lot for a sixteen-year-old. I didn't give a shit about my sister when I was a kid."

Her house was tidy, but Puck had the impression she'd cleaned up for him, that her usual state was less perfect than she let on. She raised an eyebrow, waiting for his answer, and he realized he'd been staring.

"We depended on each other when my dad left," he said. "First my brother, then my dad. Now my Ma's dead. We've still got each other."

"Noah." Ms. Corcoran looked shocked. "You've been through so much."

"You know, everybody says that, but I have no idea what they mean." He shrugged. "It's just my life. I don't know what it would be like to live any other way."

"I suppose that's true." She reached into the fridge and pulled out a bowl of salad. "Don't you feel angry, though, that things aren't easier?"

He sat at the stool she offered him, and shook his head. "I don't need easy. Nobody owes me anything. I get what I get, and it sucks sometimes, yeah. But I've got a hell of a lot."

She nodded slowly. "Tell me."

"What?"

"What you've got. Tell me what's important to you."

"I've got... people."

"People?" she prompted.

Puck had been assuming all day he'd lie to this Corcoran woman, only give her what she needed to know. Because she was there to bribe him, after all; she was manipulating him, even now. He was sure of it. She was a player, just as he'd been all his life. Until Finn and Kurt fixed him.  _I don't want to lie,_  he realized, and it was an unsettling thought.

"Yeah," he said. "My family. Kurt, and... and Finn, they're my boyfriends; we're a triad. And there's another guy, I just got back from visiting him in LA. He and me and Kurt, we're another triad. And I've got lovers in Santa Fe..."

"Hold on, hold on." Ms. Corcoran set the bowl of salad down. She got very close to Puck's face, both hands planted on the counter across from him. "You're  _sixteen,_  and you're telling me you're polyamorous?"

"Yeah." He smiled, surprised. "You know that word?"

"Know it. I lived it." She shook her head, and she was frowning again. "You're in over your head."

"Maybe. Yeah, probably. But, like I said, I never asked for easy." He smirked at her. "You're one to talk, if you're visiting Dr. Howell."

Ms. Corcoran's mouth snapped shut into a firm line. She picked up the salad bowl and walked to the table, setting it down. Then she turned back to him.

"So much for pretending this is just a nice dinner," she said, her voice low. "I'm not discussing him. Understood?"

"Fine by me," Puck said, stung. "Don't do me any favors. I'm only here for the food."

It was quiet for a few minutes while she prepared the Caesar dressing tableside. He waited for her to make a mistake so he could razz her about it, but it seemed flawless, from the coddled egg to the oven-toasted croutons. She gave him a curt nod when he thanked her, and took a bite.

"Not bad," he said, appreciating the proper combination of salty-tart from the crushed anchovy and parmesan. "I can't say I've ever made it better myself."

She twisted her pretty mouth as she ate, but she seemed a little more calm once the salad course was over. He watched her surreptitiously as she served the blackened salmon - so much for his prediction of red meat - wondering how much more to offer if she wasn't going to tell him anything about her relationship with Carl.

"The people," he said.

"What, there are more?" She rolled her eyes. "You kids have way too much energy."

"Kurt's dad," he pushed on. "And Finn's mom. They've been really good to me, and my sister, since my Ma died. He's adopting Sarah."

"Your boyfriend's dad is adopting your sister." Ms. Corcoran shook her head in disbelief. "What, is this a soap opera?"

"And there's my kid." He wasn't going to let her derail him. "She's due in April. Her mother's putting her up for adoption, and I'm keeping her."

She stopped, mid-retort, her mouth hanging open a fraction. She looked - hurt, somehow, like he'd managed to reach across the table and slap her without moving an inch.

"You're going to be a father?"

She didn't say it disbelievingly, but enviously. Puck found himself smiling, and took a deep breath.

"Yes." He ate another bite of salmon. It was excellent. "Sometimes I think that's the only thing I'm sure of. My relationships, my parents, my brother, everything - that could stop, anytime, but... yeah, I'm going to be a papa."

She stared at her plate. When she looked back up at him, he thought she might be on the edge of tears.

"Why?" she asked.

"Why what?"

"Why are you doing this? You're sixteen, and you've got so many things you could do, and you're choosing to be a gay teenage dad?"

" _What_  things?" he asked, with a little laugh. "I suck at school. I'm just barely passing. Once high school's over, what do I have to look forward to? A minimum wage job?"

"How do you think you're going to take care of her without that minimum wage job, exactly?" She stood, pushing her chair out, barely disguising her anger. "You're being completely unrealistic here."

"Why? How? This - this  _is_  my reality. I didn't choose to have a kid, but she... she chose me." He stared at her across the table. "I'm not going to let her go. I can't."

"You can," she insisted.  _"I_ did."

Puck nodded, taking that in. "Okay. So... how'd that work out for you?"

She went into the kitchen with their empty dinner plates. When she returned, she was carrying two  _pots de creme_  in ramekins, and her face was composed once more.

"It worked out fine," she said. "I got my career, my life. My kids -" She stopped, swallowed, and went on. "My kids got better parents than I could have been."

"Yeah... well, I can't do that. She's in my head, all the time, this kid. She's in my dreams. I'm doing it. Davis drew up the paperwork -"

"Davis Lawton?" The name was whispered, but Puck heard it. He saw how Ms. Corcoran's face had gone pale.  _"He's_  your lawyer."

"Yeah, that's how we met Dr. Howell, kind of. It's a long story."

They ate their dessert in an awkward silence, and Puck tried not to say more, because she was clearly wrestling with something.

"I think..." She wiped her mouth on her napkin, and leveled her gaze at him. "I think I might have to have you over for dinner again, Noah, so you can tell me more of your story."

* * *

It was almost midnight by the time Puck pulled into his parking space in the lot by his apartment. He slammed the door and was digging his phone out to call Adam and Kurt when his phone rang.

The number wasn't one he was familiar with, and he considered letting it go to voice mail, but he was really just too curious for that. He stabbed the Answer Call button. "Yo."

There was a silence on the other end, but Puck could hear somebody breathing. He tried again. "Who's this?"

"Noah," he heard.

Puck stopped walking. The sidewalk was empty, just him and the winter streets of downtown Lima lit by streetlights, but it wouldn't have mattered if he'd been in the middle of Times Square on New Year's Eve. He would have heard and recognized that voice. He just didn't know what to do with it.

"What the fuck do you want?" he bit out.

"I have to talk to you," said his dad.

Puck put out his hand to steady himself on the brick of his building. "I can't think of anything you could say to me that I'd want to hear. And I'm hanging up now."

"Wait - please. Noah. Just... I know, I fucked up. A lot." He heard his dad take a breath, and Puck mirrored it, trying to stay calm. "But I got this call from this guy, Burt, and I don't know him from Adam, and he says he wants to  _adopt_  you and Sarah, and - "

"Me?" Puck said. He laughed, just one short sound, like a gasp.

"Yeah, and I just - I needed to know. What the hell's going on, Noah? Your Ma's gone, and... god, I'm so  _sorry."_

Puck heard his own voice in his dad's, saying the words  _I'm so sorry._  He thought of all the people he'd said it to over the past three months, people who'd given him a chance. He probably hadn't deserved it, half the time, but he'd gotten it, all the same.

"Okay, dad," he said heavily, unlocking his door and trudging up the stairs. "I'm listening."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song credit from Puck's dream: The Flame by Cheap Trick.
> 
> Adam Lambert doing the weather: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=phWkuxxloLA
> 
> Sorry, no pics of Kurt in the French maid outfit. 
> 
> Puck sang Love Profusion by Madonna.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn visits the Pierce household, where someone's virginity is disposed of and Finn has an epiphany, followed by an effort to regain what was lost with Puck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the penultimate portion of the Madonna episode, in which Puck has just met with Shelby and talked to his dad on the phone, Kurt is finishing his visit in California and Finn is about to lose his virginity with Santana (and Britt). Warning in this chapter for a MFF threesome and M/M sex. Thanks for reading, and as always, enjoy. 
> 
> -amy

"Why would Puck want to have dinner with a teacher?" asked Brittany, climbing out of the back seat of Santana's BMW. She'd been happy enough to give up the front seat to Finn, which was good because he'd been pretty sure he wasn't going to fold up well enough to fit there.

He had expected he'd just get a ride back to Kurt's house and walk over to Britt's from there, because really, if you stood in Britt's side yard and craned your neck a little, you could see right into the window of Burt's office. But part of him - okay, maybe a big part - didn't want to have to explain what he was doing to his mom or Burt or Sarah. He wasn't going to think about the disappointed, hurt look he'd seen today on Puck's face in the middle of the choir room, or Kurt hundreds of miles away in California, in the midst of his own NRE. This was about...

... well, he wasn't exactly sure what it was about, to be completely honest. But at least he could answer Brittany.

"Ms. Corcoran's trying to manipulate Puck into not telling about something, which he already wasn't going to tell about," said Finn. He glanced across the street, but he couldn't really see into Burt's office from here, and he was probably still at the garage anyway. Just as well.

Santana looked intrigued. "Yeah? I suppose you're not going to tell about it either, are you. Because you're his boyfriend."

It still hit him a little funny to hear it said that way, out loud, like it was perfectly ordinary. He didn't expect Santana and Britt to judge him, in any case. "Yeah," he said, trying to sound confident. "Yeah, he is."

"I was pretty sure you guys were done, after what you did to him." She looped an arm through his, giving him a confidential, sexy smile. "And from what I hear, he's getting plenty from Kurt, and... this other guy? The one in California? He saw him out there, didn't he?"

"I'm not going to talk about him." He looked over at Britt as she took his other arm, startled not only by how close she was, but how  _tall_  she was. Taller than Kurt, even. "Oh... hey."

"Hey," she replied, grinning at him. They led him around the south side of the house, where Finn could see Britt's garden, some blanketed in snow and some enclosed in plastic-covered hoop houses. From the deck, she opened the sliding glass door and beckoned them into the house. "Leave your shoes on the mat by the kitchen. You can put on slippers if you want."

The basket of slippers gave him pause. He untied his sneakers and lined them up on the plastic mat, then sorted through the basket until he found a pair that looked big enough to fit him. Brittany nodded in satisfaction as he stepped into the leather moccasins, wool-side in.

"My uncle has huge feet, too, so we keep a supply around." She tilted her head. "You've got big hands, too. Though after a couple disappointments, I realized that big feet don't always match up with a big -"

"Let's leave that up to Finn to surprise us, okay, Britt? How about something to drink?" While Brittany disappeared into the kitchen, Santana perched on a barstool at the kitchen counter, inviting Finn to sit in the chair in front of her. "So... you'd better hear some ground rules before we start."

"Ground rules." He regarded her warily. "Like, you call me names and make fun of me while you ignore me, until I ditch you at Breadsticks?"

She shook her head. "No, like, you're completely fucking silent while you listen to the rules, got it? Now... this is Britt's house. Some things work differently here. You're going to hear things, see things that surprise you. Rule number one is: roll with it. If you don't understand, try to store it up in that tiny little brain of yours, like nuts for the winter, and Auntie Tana will help you crack them later. Nod if you understand so far."

"Um," said Finn, but she glared at him, and he just nodded, feeling more bemused than anything.

"You don't get to tell Britt she's wrong here. I'm under her spell as much as you are. You need something, you wait until you leave to ask for it. Rule number two is: no secrets from Britt's parents. They'll take you at face value, and unless you're doing something more illegal than selling pot, they probably won't care, especially if it's about sex. They don't talk to authorities, so just be honest."

He frowned. "I don't know, Santana. I'm sitting on a lot of secrets, and some of them aren't really mine to tell."

"I really don't care," she said. "Think of it like... not showing fear around a pack of wolves. As long as you're in charge and growling in their faces, they'll treat you with respect, but back down and you're dead meat. Britt's parents are like honesty wolves."

Brittany returned from the kitchen, handing Santana a brown bottle, then popping the cap off one for herself. When she tried to give one to Finn, he shook his head. "I don't drink, thanks."

"Birch beer," said Brittany, shaking her head with amusement. "Jeez, Finn, relax a little We're not going to bite you. Well, unless you're into that."

Finn thought about the row of teeth mark bruises that probably still marked his right hip, thanks to Carl's welcome-home bondage session the night before, and gazed desperately at the half-wall behind Santana. "Sorry. This is just... I'm feeling a little uncomfortable."

"Well, then, that could be rule number three." Brittany looked expectantly at Santana, who shrugged, scowling. "Nobody does anything they don't want to do."

"Well... isn't that kind of the point?" said Finn. "You think I'm being held back by being a virgin."

"You have to repeat junior year too?" Britt said, looking surprised. "I thought you were smart, Finn."

Santana smothered her laugh, but couldn't keep from exchanging a pointed look with Finn. "Roll with it," she said firmly.

"Rule number one," he agreed. "No, Britt, I just meant Santana said she thought my being a virgin was keeping me from being... something. My true self, or whatever."

Santana's eye-roll was practically audible. "I'm sure I never said anything that completely lame. I meant you're not tapping into that sexy vibe. You, singing The Doors? That was hot. Whatever inspired that - that's what I'm talking about. You need to tap that."

Finn closed his eyes and called to mind the inspiration for that song, who was at this moment wearing blue scrubs and wielding a dental drill, working under his more public auspice as Dr. Howell, DDS.  _I need to tap that,_  he thought, and shivered. "I... don't really think that... vibe had anything to do with girls, Santana."

Britt and Santana exchanged a glance. Then Brittany held out her hand. "C'mon," she said. "There's somebody in my bedroom I want you to meet. He has more hair on his chest than you do."

He was more anxious than curious to discover what she meant, but when it turned out to be a cat - an enormous fat pudge of a cat - Finn found himself relaxing. He sipped his birch beer and sat on the floor, scratching Lord Tubbington's immense belly while Santana and Britt complained about the Cheerios' recent Madonna numbers.

"Sue expects way too much," Santana declared, stretched out on her side on Britt's bed. "We can't be dancers and acrobats and sex objects  _and_  sing, at least not if she expects it to sound any good."

He tried to focus on the conversation. "Wait, she's asking you to sing?"

"She wants us to  _be_  Madonna. Only Madonna is Madonna." Britt paused, then added thoughtfully, "Well. I guess Lady Gaga is kind of Madonna 2.0. What was she like, Finn?"

"She was really nice," he said. "I didn't even know what to expect, but she was more human than I thought she'd be. Like, I think she actually cared about having us there. I mean, of course she did; she invited us over, but... she talked to us like we were real people. And dinner was ordinary, just pasta that she made herself, and she even let Puck help cook, and..."  _And she has a dungeon in her basement,_  he didn't add. "We all sang for her, and she sang with us."

"Puck mentioned you sang with a couple different people while you were there." Santana watched Finn's face carefully. When he didn't answer, she added, "Kurt's still out there, right?"

"Yeah, he had an ear infection, so he couldn't fly. He's staying with a friend." He stared back at her until she shrugged noncommittally and changed the subject.

"And the three of you are still... together? Today's little spat in Glee didn't strike me as very harmonious." She sighed at his expression. "Come on, Finn. If you're not going to talk about your boyfriends, what  _will_  you talk about?"

That was a good question. He had no idea how to dance around the subject of Carl without having to get into some pretty elaborate lies, and he wasn't going to say anything more about Adam. And Rachel... if there was anybody who disliked Rachel more than Santana, he hadn't met them yet. He opened his mouth to say  _nothing, I guess,_  but instead, he said, "I met a boy at the coffeehouse in Columbus."

"Now that's more like it." Santana curled around Brittany, one arm on her shoulder. "Is he cute?"

"It's not about that. I mean, sure, I guess he is? But that's not... it's not what mattered." He'd been thinking about Patrick all weekend while they'd been in California, wondering if he'd gone to Irene's without him. Wondering if Patrick had sung for the open mic... and if he'd been thinking about those moments that had passed between the two of them, unexpected and frightening and far too compelling to ignore. "He needs something different from me."

"He's gay?" Santana smirked when Finn nodded. "So tell me, what could a gay guy need from you that wasn't about sex? You're telling me he just wants to be friends?"

"I - no." Finn wasn't sure about a lot of things when it came to Patrick, but he was definitely sure it wasn't simple friendship Patrick was wanting from him. He shook his head. "You really don't want to know."

"Well, I do," Brittany disagreed, her ankles crossed in front of her as they swung off the edge of the bed. "Sounds kind of kinky."

"It's not!" snapped Finn.  _And I should know._ The memory of last night with Carl, hands warm and strong and stinging on his flesh, the ropes binding his arms behind his back, pressing him into the bed -  _that_ was kinky. Even some of the things he did with Kurt, and had done with Puck, those had been pretty kinky compared to what the other kids at school were doing with their girlfriends. But what Patrick wanted, that was so simple.

"He needs somebody who sees him," he said. "Somebody who can see  _all_  of him, and to reassure him that all of it is just fine the way it is."

Before Santana could open her mouth to make a snide comment, Brittany reached down and put a hand on Finn's shoulder. She was smiling.

"I get it," she said. "It's just what Santana does for me. And you're good at it."

He was a little startled, and more than a little uncomfortable to think about what that might imply about what she and Santana did together, but -  _following rule number one. Rolling with it._  "Yeah, it's something I  _used_  to think I was pretty good at, but after that fight with Puck, I kind of... lost confidence, I guess. And now, with Patrick, I think... well, I think I might be able to do it again. Because he needs it so much."

Brittany crept down off the bed and, very carefully, straddled his lap. Finn shrank back a little to find her so close to him, right in his face, but she wasn't demanding anything, just kind of touching him. Petting him, not unlike the way he'd been scritching Lord Tubbington. She gently tipped his face up toward her own and kissed him. It wasn't the first time he'd kissed Britt, but in the past it had always been in the context of a game, or just goofing around. This felt markedly different.

"That's really hot," she whispered into his ear, moving her lips to his jaw. "But don't you want to do this with him, too?"

Finn was having trouble thinking about anything other than the sensation of her words against his skin. "I'm - I'm already doing this with - plenty of guys."

Santana made a low sound, kind of an approving moan. "Yeah... tell us about that?"

"About - what? About me and - guys?" He tipped his head back, feeling Britt's soft lips on his throat, the gentle scrape of her teeth, and braced himself against the floor with both hands, feeling even more awkward than usual in the midst of so much curvy grace. She felt absolutely nothing like Rachel. Britt was already doing things to him that Rachel wouldn't have even dreamed of doing, and he wanted to say  _wait, shouldn't we talk about this, isn't this too fast for you? because I think it is for me._

Instead, he let his mind go back to those first few days with Kurt, when they'd become friends with benefits. They hadn't been in love then, but the no-holds-barred exploration had been awesome. He'd felt so lucky to have a friend who was willing to shoulder aside all the awkward and complicated and just say  _hey, try this._  He found himself smiling.

"It was surprising, how hot it was," he said. "I started having these dreams, about Puck, and when they didn't freak me out I decided I needed to talk to somebody. So I went to Kurt, and he... offered." He put a hand on Britt's shoulder and squeezed. Her skin was soft, but she was strong underneath, not like Puck, but defined, solid.  _Bricks under velvet._  "Kind of like you guys did, I guess?"

Brittany slid both hands under his sweater and lifted it over his head, tossing it to the side. Her hands skated over his stomach, his chest before raising her own arms in the air. Without one pause, Santana's hands appeared from behind her, stripping off Britt's Cheerios top, and suddenly there were boobs - boobs right there in his face, holy hell. He stared down into her cleavage, peeking out of the top of her bra. "Whoa."

"Touch her, idiot," Santana hissed. "Both hands, hard, on the sides, and don't pinch the nipples because that's totally an amateur move."

Finn took her advice as best as he could, watching Britt respond enthusiastically with a sense of amazement. "This - really?"

"Keep talking, Finnocence." Santana's own hands were resting on Britt's hips - a little possessively, he thought, but she didn't seem to be objecting to what he was doing. "You and Kurt, and don't spare the details."

He supposed it should have been hard to recall Kurt when surrounded by nearly naked girl, but in actuality being immersed in sensory input was a great trigger for memories of him and Kurt on the green couch. "He - neither of us had really done anything with another guy, but we both had a lot of ideas, and we'd kind of trade them back and forth, like, he'd suggest something, and we'd try that, and that would get us going on something else, and we'd try that, and... compare notes -"

" _Details,_  Finn," Santana snapped. "God, you can't even  _talk_  about sex right."

"Be nice," Brittany chided, stroking Finn's hair, from his forehead down to his neck. "He's doing great." She dipped a hand between his legs, pressing against his cock. He kind of wanted to apologize for not being harder than he was, but she didn't seem disappointed.

Santana didn't argue with Britt, which Finn guessed might be part of the dynamic between them, but might have more to do with rule number one. He tried to move, to stretch his legs a little, but Santana quickly redirected him back to Britt's plentiful cleavage. "This is your focal point, Hudson. Don't get distracted."

He watched as Santana unhooked Brittany's bra and deposited it in the rapidly growing pile of clothing beside them.  _Distracted? Who, me?_  He put his hands back on her breasts, feeling the weight of them in his hands with a kind of reverent awe. Santana made imperious eye contact with him over Britt's shoulder.

"Tell her about the first time he got you off," she said. "Anything.  _Details."_

He watched Santana kiss Brittany's neck, and for a minute he felt like the old Finn Hudson - the straight one, the one who thought about girls all the time. Except for those times when he had dreams about his best friend. But that was normal, right?

"Before we knew Puck was into me," he said, letting Britt arch forward against him, responding to Santana's kisses -  _and his words, maybe?_ he wondered - "when I was still just with Kurt, he would tell me to close my eyes, and think of Puck's hands touching me. His mouth... sucking me."

He heard Brittany's light gasp, and watched Santana's hands clench on Britt's skin, digging tiny little red crescents into the flesh of her bare hips. Now he could feel himself responding to her touch, but in his mind, it was definitely Kurt's hands on him, Kurt's encouraging voice, urging him not to feel guilty, but to love it. To love him, love Puck, the only way he could, before they'd realized what was really going on between the two of them.

"Rule number four," Santana said, breathing a little harder. "Sucking is better than biting."

_Not in my world,_  Finn would have said, but he was trying to be polite. It wasn't his place to try to convince her otherwise, and really, he was willing to give her that, if that's what she wanted. He bent his head, sandwiching Brittany in between their bodies, Santana holding her up from behind, as he used his tongue on one nipple. He wasn't going to explain he'd learned this particular technique from a professional Dom, but he was pleased to discover it worked as well on this particular girl as it had on him.

When he looked up, he discovered Britt and Santana kissing over Britt's shoulder, their own tongues well-engaged. That was almost hotter than any of the rest had been so far, but eventually she stopped, turned to Finn and kissed him too.

"We have an idea of what Puck likes," Brittany said, nudging him over toward Santana's face to kiss her, but Santana pulled back, quickly shimmying out of her clothes. She helped Britt out of her skirt, leaving just a very brief pair of pink panties, and Britt smiled at him in anticipation. "What did he want you to do to him?"

_God._  The layers of memories, every fantasy he'd ever had about Puck and shared with Kurt, they were obliterated by the thought of the impact of his hand on Puck's ass. "He wanted me - in charge," he said, a little unsteady. "Taking control. Taking - taking away his fear, his powerlessness. Giving him - fuck, Britt -" Her hands were unzipping his jeans now, smaller and more nimble than Kurt's or Puck's or Carl's, and he groaned at her touch inside his boxers.

"I bet you  _gave it to him,_ " she breathed, her breasts pressing up against his bare arm as she stroked him. "You're big and strong. Did you hold him down?"

It was almost too much. He thrust forward into her hand at the same time he twisted away from the persistent memories. "We don't do that anymore. Not since I hit him."

"Yeah, I heard about his new guy in California. Max?" Santana frowned, tugging on Brittany's arm. "Come on, up on the bed. More comfortable for me. You're not jealous of him?"

Finn let his head clear a little as Britt deposited her panties on the floor and pulled back the comforter and sheets on the bed. He thought about "Max," the name Puck had invented for Adam when he'd told Quinn about him, and sighed. "Jealous," he echoed. "Um... yeah, sure, I am. But Kurt wants him, so..."

"Kurt?" Santana glanced down at him sharply. "We weren't talking about Kurt."

_Shit,_  Finn thought, his heart sinking.  _I didn't need to say anything more about that._  "I meant Puck. He and... Max. He gives him something I can't, so I... I can't feel bad about it."

"Jeans off, Hudson," she instructed, waving at the floor. "Nothing more than underwear allowed on this bed."

"What, is that rule number five?" Being naked in front of the two of them felt a lot more awkward and embarrassing, more than he had ever felt with any of his other lovers. Something about being the only one with a dick, maybe. He crawled onto the bed and sat between them.

"No," Britt assured him. "It's just a good idea. Naked is way more fun."

Santana had been largely hands-off up until now, so Finn was a little surprised when she was the one to press him into the mattress and straddle him. She reached around behind and unhooked her bra in one swift motion, dropping it onto the floor. Then she opened Brittany's desk drawer, and her hand emerged holding a condom.

"You use these with your guys?" she asked, brandishing it at him. He gulped.

"Um, no," he admitted. "We - not with each other. But with everybody else." The image of what Kurt and Adam and Puck had probably been doing all weekend, using  _those,_  was more painful than hot. Somehow the pain made it easier to allow himself to focus on the bodies in front of him, curvy and tanned and smooth. He wondered if he should have shaved or waxed or something.

Santana nodded. "Good plan. Well, you're using one with me. I'm not stupid like Quinn. Me and sperm aren't exactly on speaking terms." She unwrapped the condom and handed it to Britt, who grinned before moving to kneel between Finn's legs. "Now, Britt's going to do her thing, and you're going to tell me more about what you and Puck have been up to. Or Kurt, whatever; he's pretty hot too. I've always had an appreciation for pretty boys."

Finn could feel exactly what Brittany was doing with her hands and fingers and -  _gaaah -_  her mouth. He spread his legs wider, bending his knees, and wondered if either one of them would appreciate knowing how much he liked being fucked. But he figured that wasn't what they were there for, and really, if they were going to do anything about de-virgining him, he wasn't going to want any additional stimulation. Santana, sitting on his chest, letting her breasts dangle close enough to brush his face, one hand tucked into her panties - that was pretty stimulating.

"I don't know what else I can say without -  _ohhhh -_  without breaking confidence," he said. He shifted his knees, letting them fall open on either side of Santana. She picked up his hand, clenching the comforter beside them, and placed it on her breast.

"Trust me, Finn, anything I tell anybody about this night will be carefully scripted. We have sex with too many people to tell the truth about any of it." She grinned. "Tell me."

His other hand came up to hold the other breast. His hips bucked a little, caged by Santana's thighs, but that was good, too, the way she was holding him down with her body. "Our first time together," he said. "Me and Kurt and Puck, we all did it together. I told them what was coming, days before, so they'd know, and be waiting for it. And I had Kurt shower, and lay on the bed, and Puck got on top of him..."

"Yeah?" He could see the outline of Santana's hand in her panties, her knuckles taut through the thin fabric as they moved in rhythm. He brought one curious hand down to stroke the soft skin of her inner thighs, and she let out an explosive breath of air. "They didn't mind you bossing them around, telling them what to do?"

"No, they like it. They want that."  _They used to,_  he wanted to add, because he realized just how hard he'd been holding on to all of this, and getting a chance to talk about it was an enormous relief. He suddenly found himself wanting to tell Santana everything - about Puck and Adam, about how he'd shut himself in his room for four days when Puck had left, and even after he'd come back how nothing was the same; about Carl and how much  _he_  liked Carl bossing him around, how much  _he_  wanted it. He focused on Britt's fingers gripping his cock at the base as she sucked him. "After Puck was done with Kurt, I took him, right there on top of Kurt."

Santana's eyes fluttered closed as her head fell back, arching into the pressure of her hand. "God," she said. "Okay, Britt, I'm ready."

Finn wasn't quite sure what she meant, but Brittany sat up, wiping her mouth, and moved to lie beside Finn as Santana straddled him. "I guess  _you_ won't mind kissing me after I had my mouth on you," she said, stroking his chest. "Some guys think that's gross, but I like tasting myself on their tongue."

"Yeah, I - I like that, too." Finn watched Santana lower herself with one quick motion onto his erect cock. She ground into him, and they both moaned.

"Feels good, huh?" Santana said. Her thigh muscles flexed, controlling the depth of penetration. With each thrust, she took a little more of him. "Yeah, big hands, big feet; I knew it. You're fucking enormous."

"Different. It feels - different." It was, and it wasn't. The pressure was less intense than when he was inside Kurt or Puck, but the heat was the same, and the way she was opening up for him a little at a time felt familiar. Brittany watched them with avid interest, playing with his nipples.

"I like being fucked in the ass too," she said conversationally. "It's better sometimes, but it's messier. I like both." She rested her head on Finn's shoulder, her eyes on Santana. "I like a lot of both."

Carl's words about not letting himself get hemmed in by labels flickered through his brain, but he was pretty sure he'd already come to his own conclusions about this experience.  _I'm not in love with them,_  he thought.  _I'm not in love with either one of them, and it doesn't matter how hot they are, or how awesome their boobs are. This is nothing compared to the way it is with Kurt, or Carl. Or Puck. Why would I want to bother?_

"Santana," he said with a sigh, but she put one hand on his chest, holding him down.

"You just be real quiet now while I get what I came for," she told him. "Guys are good for three things, and this is one of them."

No matter what his brain said about not wanting it, his body was still happy to go along with what Santana was doing. When Brittany reached out with a thumb and made little circles of pressure against what Finn assumed was Santana's clit - not that he'd ever really seen one, but he listened in the locker room, and Puck had told him stories - he could feel his climax threatening.  _Mailman,_  he thought, trying to stave it off, because the last thing he wanted was Santana pissed off at him for coming before she was done.

"Baby," she gasped, reaching for Britt, and Brittany raised herself up on her knees beside her, kissing her hard. Finn could feel her clenching around him. He closed his eyes, remembering the first time he'd felt that with Puck, the unbelievable sensation of someone else's pleasure, surrounding him - His hands curled around Santana's hips and held her steady while he thrust into her harder, deeper, his ass contracting as he pulsed through his own release.

"Yeah," Britt whispered, hugging Santana's body, letting her relax against her. "That's it... you come over here now, 'kay?"

Santana disengaged, climbing off him to lie on top of Brittany, resting between her breasts and letting her stroke her hair. Finn was left to deal with the condom, which, after a moment, he managed to tie into a knot and toss into the wastebasket.

He put a hand on Santana's back, watching her face. "You okay?"

"It's just sex, Finn," she said sharply. "Get on, get off. But you're not done yet. You still have to satisfy Britt, here. And as much as I'd rather do it myself, you're here to learn, and I'm not going to let you off this bed until she comes at least once. Move out of the way."

Finn shifted to one side, making space for Britt to lie down in the center. Santana gestured with her head. "Down there."

"Uh," he said, feeling uneasy. "I don't - I mean, I'm not really -"

"It's  _nice,"_  Brittany insisted. She reached out for Finn's hand, pulling him closer, so he was the one kneeling between her thighs. "This is my favorite thing."

"New focal point, Hudson." Santana outlined Brittany's clit with her fingers. She put a hand behind his neck and brought him right down against it, close enough for him to stick out his tongue and -

"I can't," he said. "Really, I don't want to."

Santana rolled her eyes. "God. I'm so embarrassed on your behalf, I can't even tell you. You want to be Rachel's girlfriend and you won't even go down on her?"

"I don't want this with Rachel," he protested. "What we have, it's not about that."

"Well, it should be," Santana shot back. She gave him a shove, and he nearly fell off the end of the bed. "If you don't want her this way, you shouldn't be dating her. You should want it, all the time. It should be something you dream about, something you fucking  _crave._  If it's not like that... stick with your guys."

Brittany didn't look disappointed at all to have Santana descend on her instead of Finn, but he didn't stick around to watch it. Whatever he liked about being with girls, it seemed to be fairly limited to boobs and kissing. He snagged his boxers off the floor with one finger, his jeans with another and shut the door to the bathroom behind him.

Sitting on the toilet, he texted a message to Kurt.  _Hope you have fun at the party tonight. Things with Britt and Santana were weird._

His response was quick.  _The party, well, it'll probably be loud. Adam's enlisting help from his ex Drake to try to draw press attention away from me. And weird how? Do you feel different?_

_Not any different. I just wasn't in love with them. Casual sex kind of sucks._

_I'll keep it in mind, if I ever feel the impulse to have any. And I love you, even if you did have sex with girls._

He grinned.  _Puck has had sex with a bazillion girls, and you love him too. I'm glad it didn't change things between us, anyway. Should I watch the tabloids tomorrow for news about the mysterious hottie at the Avalon Club?_

_Oh my god, Finn, did you just call me a hottie?_

_Who says I was talking about you?_ Finn smothered his laugh with one hand.  _I'd better go see if Santana and Britt are dressed. I'll see you at the airport tomorrow after school._ He paused, then added,  _Hope your last night there is a good one, baby._

_Thank you. Good night._

He could have said  _I miss you_  or a dozen other things, but he knew Kurt's attention was on Adam, and he didn't want to make him feel guilty for that.  _He watched me go through this with Carl,_ he thought.  _He deserves a little NRE of his own._  It hurt a little, but it wasn't the-end-of-the-world kind of hurt, and the good feeling he had knowing Kurt was happy was bigger.

Santana and Brittany were snuggled around one another when he returned to the bedroom. Britt turned a drowsy smile on him. "My turn in the bathroom," she said. She stretched, then paused to kiss him before heading out of the room.

Finn sat next to Santana on the bed, but she wasn't meeting his eyes.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked.

"Why, because you wimped out on going down on Britt? I told you, I'd rather do it myself anyway. You were just missing out." She scowled at Lord Tubbington, sprawled next to Brittany's pillow.

"I'm sorry. I - I thought I'd feel different after."

"Yeah, well, I've noticed that it takes about twenty or so times before the feeling of accomplishment really kicks in." She glanced up. "How  _do_  you feel?"

He shrugged. "I don't feel anything. 'Cause it didn't mean anything."

"Thanks," she said, sounding amused, and nudged his shoulder. "Can't it just be to help out a friend?"

"Sure. I mean, I guess. People have casual sex all the time. I just don't think it's for me."

Santana held out a hand to Britt as she returned from the bathroom, and she joined them on the bed. "Yeah, I don't get that. You're doing two hot guys. What's the difference?"

"Because there are feelings," said Britt. "I told you it was better with feelings."

"Whatever. Well, Hudson, thanks for getting me off; sorry it didn't live up to your bizarre boysex standards. I'd say your guys are lucky you're well hung. But you're going to get propositioned at school once the word gets out I popped your cherry." Santana considered this. "How about I spread the news that you're a terrible lay, and... oh, I don't know, you've got funny-looking nipples. You think that would turn away most would-be suitors?"

"He has nice nipples," Britt said, resting her chin on his shoulder. He grinned at her, kissing her forehead.

"It's just a story, Britt, so I don't have to deal with girls hitting on me. But thanks for the cover story. I think this'll be good enough camouflage until Puck and Sarah's adoption papers are processed and we can come out at school."

Santana punched him on the shoulder. "Way to take one for the team."

* * *

Britt's parents didn't look at all surprised to have a boy at the table. Her father shook his hand and smiled when Finn stiffly introduced himself, and her mother gave him a sympathetic smile when Britt said, "Finn needed to lose his virginity with girls, so we were taking care of that."

"You're very thoughtful to help him out that way," said her mother, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. She handed the broccoli to Santana. "I'm sorry if Britt's frankness embarrasses you, Finn. We've always encouraged her to be honest."

Santana made a little cough that sounded something like  _santaclaus,_  but Finn couldn't be sure. She, at least, seemed comfortable around Britt's parents.

Brittany shrugged, eating the olives off her salad. "Finn's mostly gay, anyway. His boyfriends are in Glee, too. And his girlfriend."

"We're, uh, not dating. Me and Rachel." Finn took another helping of pot roast, wondering how long Rachel's secret affair with Jesse St. James would stay secret. "I think it's probably better that way."

Mr. Pierce looked blandly pensive. "I wouldn't have expected such a liberal attitude about relationships from someone growing up here. No offense meant to you, Finn."

"No - no, I kind of think the same thing about Lima," said Finn. "It's not really much for open thinking."

"We mostly keep to ourselves," said Mrs. Pierce. "The economy limited our choices about where to live; Phil knew he'd have to take what he could get when he got his Ph.D. OSU Lima was where we ended up."

"He teaches history," Britt added.

Finn had to wonder about the genetics of intelligence, if these two had produced Brittany. "Kurt mentioned something about you being a designer?"

Mrs. Pierce smiled. "Oh, you know Kurt? He used to play over here all the time with Brittany and her garden, making things on our sewing machine."

"Mom, he's Kurt's boyfriend." She grinned at Finn's anxious expression. "Don't worry, they won't tell anybody."

"We won't," confirmed Mr. Pierce. "We're a social circle of two. Your secret's safe with me. But I'm so glad Kurt found someone; he was such a nice boy. Britt, you should introduce Finn to Blaine."

She shrugged. "Maybe. Finn doesn't need any more boyfriends."

They encouraged him to take the last serving of pot roast while Brittany filled her parents in on their latest problems in the Cheerios. Mr. and Mrs. Pierce considered Britt's cheerleading concerns as thoughtfully as they'd listened to Finn talking about the dearth of liberalism in Lima, and Finn relaxed a little more.

"Why doesn't Coach Sylvester have Glee club sing while you're doing your routines?" asked Mrs. Pierce.

"No way," Santana said, shaking her head firmly. "Coach Sue hates Mr. Schue. She's been trying to get us to spy on him since October. She'd never accept his help."

"Yeah, but what if it wasn't his idea?" Finn turned to Santana. "What if she thought... she was taking something from him?" He explained what had happened with Karofsky and Kurt and the Cheerios uniform, and how Adam had suggested he join the Cheerios.

Santana looked dubious. "Can he dance? I mean, does he have moves?"

"It wouldn't matter, if he was doing the singing." He raised an eyebrow at the girls. "You think Sue would go for it?"

"Maybe. Like you said, she'd totally scoop his stars from Schue, if she thought it would hurt him. But would Kurt do it?"

"One way to find out," he said, pulling out his phone. He texted Kurt:  _If Coach Sylvester asked you to join the Cheerios, would you do it?_

It wasn't until Britt had cleared the table and brought out Puck's chocolate chess pie that he received a reply.  _I can't believe I'm saying this, but... yes? But I think I'd need backup. If she asks me, she has to ask Mercedes too._

Santana made a face when he showed her the text, but she shrugged and said, "I'll pass the intel, and I'll try to make it look good."

Finn shook Mr. Pierce's hand again as he put on his coat to leave, and accepted Mrs. Pierce's hug. "You're welcome any time, Finn," she said, "and please tell Kurt he's welcome too. And your other boyfriend - I'm sorry, I can't recall his name?"

"Thanks," he said. He wondered if anyone had ever died from blushing. "I'll tell him."

Finn trudged through the slushy snow back to Kurt's house, peeking in Burt's office window on the way, but it was dark. He'd be in front of the television. Puck's truck wasn't in the driveway, which wasn't a surprise either; he'd be at his own place tonight, after dinner with Shelby. He didn't bother with a text, and when Puck answered with a wary, "Yeah?" he found himself close to tears.

"Dude," he said. "I - can you come over?"

"Yeah, I guess? I mean, sure, of course." Puck paused. "How was your, uh... your date?"

"Weird. I just... I had a kind of epiphany, and I need to see you. And I'm really sorry about today at school, and about the thing with Santana, and... fuck." He sniffed, wiping his eyes. "I  _miss you."_

"Yeah. I guess tonight was the night for goddamn epiphanies." Puck sounded a little on edge himself. "I'll come pick you up at Kurt's."

Sarah was downstairs on the green couch when Finn walked in through the garage door, stamping his feet. She must have noticed immediately that something was wrong, because she jumped up and came right over to him with the box of tissues. It made him smile, even through his inexplicable tears.

"You're missing Kurt?" she guessed, watching his face.

Finn didn't bother to ask before taking her in his arms in a hug. She was a little startled, but she relaxed quickly enough, resting her curly head on his chest.

"I just learned something," he said, not letting go. "It was one of those things that your parents tell you not to do, but you don't really listen. But I did it, and I realized my mom was right? And - and maybe I could tell you, and you'd hear it from me, and believe me more than you would have believed your Ma, or Burt."

She peered up at him, looking a little flushed. "Is this about sex?"

"Uh, yeah." He laughed at her  _yucky_  face. "Well, eventually you're gonna stop feeling like that about sex, and... anyway. I don't have to tell you now. It can wait."

"Whatever," she shrugged. "I'd listen to anything you want to tell me, but I bet Noah's said it to me already."

"See, that's the thing," he said. "I don't know if he agrees with me on this one, because he's had a lot of sex with a lot of people."

"Okay," she said. "Now I think you have to tell me, or I'm just going to be thinking what the hell it could  _be."_

He let his hands slip down her arms to grasp hers. "It's just... you should be in love, when you have sex. Because it's not nearly the same thing without it. And if you're not sure if you're in love... don't."

She nodded, her curls bobbing loose around her face. "Yeah, I don't think I'll be doing that any time soon, but I'll keep it in mind."

"Thanks." He heard Puck's horn honk twice in the driveway. "I'll see you tomorrow, after we pick Kurt up at the airport."

Puck was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel when Finn climbed into the cab. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," Finn replied.

"Date didn't go so well, huh?"

Finn laughed mirthlessly. "It was fine; we didn't fight or anything. It was just... hollow. I told Kurt, I don't think I'm cut out for casual sex."

"Yeah." Puck's nervous energy was practically seeping out of his pores.  _Only two days away from Adam and Kurt,_  Finn thought. He stared at the drumming fingers for about ten seconds, feeling helpless, before he finally reached out and grabbed Puck, hauling him across the gearshift into a hug.

"Dammit," he said roughly, feeling Puck's resistance, "if you won't let me give you what you need, at least let me do this."

Puck fought him for another couple seconds before giving up. Finn breathed in unison with him, stroking his head.

"That's it," he whispered. "That's... yeah. Like that."

"Fuck, Finn." Now he could hear Puck more clearly. The tension on the phone had clearly just been the tip of the iceberg. He sounded absolutely wrecked.

"What happened? Mrs. Corcoran, did she -"

"No, no," Puck said. "That was fine. It was - I got a call." He turned haunted eyes to Finn. "It was my dad."

"Oh." He didn't dare say anything more, because it was going either be an echo of his  _oh, fuck,_  or something ridiculous and sappy, and Puck wasn't going to react well to either one. Puck nodded grimly.

"Yeah. Burt served him with the adoption papers. He called him, Finn. He called my dad." He shook his head, a little smile. "And Burt, he wants to adopt me, too. Fuck. He didn't even  _say_  anything to me about it."

Finn didn't want to let him go, but he leaned back a little, letting Puck slip back into his seat. He kept his hand on Puck's neck, just gentle, not suggesting... anything. Just holding him. "Maybe he thought you'd get freaked out by the idea?"

"I guess. I'll have to talk to him about it." Puck's eyes slipped closed, and the way he leaned into Finn's hand almost made him start crying again. "He wants me to meet him. To talk to him. God, I almost hung up on him, but... he asked me. Begged me, practically. Said he was sorry, and..." He opened his eyes again, looking right at Finn. "I guess everybody deserves another chance."

Finn struggled to keep breathing, the way Puck was staring at him. Like he was trying to ask for something, but he couldn't say the words, so he was asking with his eyes.  _But of course, that's just what you want to think. You can't make assumptions here._

"Do you really think so?" Finn managed. "I mean... I wouldn't blame you at all, if you decided he... he wasn't worth trusting, after everything that happened."

Puck laughed bitterly. "Yeah, well... you don't know the half of it. I think I probably don't even remember the worst parts. But you know what convinced me? Timmy. He remembers a lot more of the shit my dad did, and he's still talking to him. They would get together once a month, when he was in Ohio. And I figured, what the hell. People can change, right?"

Finn gripped the edge of the door with his free hand. "Maybe. They can make better choices, at least. I think you could watch to see if he does, this time. Can we -?"

Puck slipped out of his trance, shaking his head, and put the truck into gear. "Yeah, sure. Sorry, I'm just kind of out of it."

"No - it's fine."  _But if I can't hold you soon, all of you, I'm going to climb over into your seat._  He had to settle with keeping his hand on Puck's neck, all the way back through the neighborhood in the dark. When they finally pulled into Finn's driveway, he had to make himself let go.

His mom looked concerned to see Puck, or maybe it was their expressions that worried her as she looked up from her paperwork at the dining room table. But she only said, mildly, "Hey, boys. Puck, you want me to set up the guest room for you?"

Puck set his backpack down against the wall. "That'd be great, Carole. Sorry for the surprise visit. My, uh... my dad. He called me, about the adoption. I'm trying not to freak out."

She stood, pushing her chair out abruptly. "Burt told me he'd spoken with him. I'm just glad it's in motion. The sooner we can make that happen, the easier for everybody, especially for your daughter."

Her uncertain glance at Finn, and the way she looked back at Puck, appeared as though she was waiting for Finn to do something. Finn was waiting to do that, too, but he really wasn't going to do it in front of her. "Thanks, Mom," he said.

She nodded, heading for the stairs. "I'll have that room ready for you in a few minutes; I just have to clear away the yarn. Too many projects..."

As soon as she was out of sight, Finn went to stand in front of Puck, both hands on his shoulders, whispering, "Just - let me, okay?" And Puck was nodding, his face crumpling, burying it in Finn's shirt. Finn felt him shuddering, and took it as the sweetest gift, because here was  _Puck_ , letting him be the one to hold him while he fell apart. Finn cupped his head and put the other on his back, pulling him closer, closer.

"S-Sorry," Puck muttered through his tears, but Finn shook his head vehemently.

"Need this," he said thickly. "You're giving me - so much. I can't even tell you."

It was, and he felt so lucky, but being close to Puck like that was affecting him more that he wanted to admit. It didn't matter a damn that he'd just been inside Santana, or that he'd just had Britt's mouth on his cock; he wanted this, wanted him more than ever. His lips brushed over the skin on Puck's neck, and suddenly he was kissing him, fierce and possessive. Puck moaned into it as Finn wedged one leg forward between his, giving him a little pressure and letting Puck press back.

"You can say no," he insisted. Puck grabbed at his shirt, clenching his jaw, nose to nose with Finn.

"I'm not going to say no to anything tonight," he forced out. "You get me?"

Finn felt his own knees threaten to buckle at that statement, but he made himself stay steady, to give Puck the support he needed.  _You're the only one here to do this for him,_  he told himself sternly, and he'd be damned if the voice in his head didn't sound a hell of a lot like Carl.

"I get you," Finn said. He held Puck's gaze. "But you understand I can't push you without more than permission. You've got to ask for it, and if you don't... I won't do it. Not because I don't want to, but because I  _need_  you to ask for it, for it to be okay."

Puck closed his eyes again, nodding even as he tensed, waiting for Finn's lead. Finn kissed him once more, then took his hand firmly, towing him behind him. "We're going upstairs."

Finn knew his mother would pay attention to a closed door, and even though it was already close to ten, she wouldn't bother them until their designated curfew. He took Puck in his arms when he got to his door, pushing him in front of him now, until they were both in the tiny bedroom under the eaves. They'd been there dozens of times before, maybe a hundred, and it had never felt more serious than it did right at that moment.

Puck reached for him in the dark, kissing him hungrily. Finn could see the outline of Puck's shoulders, the tears shining on his face in the moonlight through his bedroom window. They shed their clothes one piece at a time, coming back together to touch and kiss and grasp as each one was discarded. Finn's hands weren't giving Puck a lot of choices, but when they got to the bed, he paused to regain control of himself.

"Tell me what you need."

"Oh, fuck," Puck whispered. Finn felt him go immediately tense under his hands. They stood there in the dark for several long moments, breathing hard.

"It's all okay," he promised. "I'm not going to freak out. I'm just... god, Puck." He heard his voice pleading, but he couldn't bring himself to care, not at all. "You need something, and I can't  _not_  give it to you. So - whatever it is you want, whatever you're - ready for... I'm here."

Puck nodded, his eyes cast down. "You're not telling me. Right? You're asking."

"I'm asking," Finn agreed. He let his fingers brush Puck's face, and heard his breath catch. "Because... because I thought I knew what you needed, once, and I was wrong. So I have to ask, you know?"

"I know. I get it. I just wish..." He hung onto the word, and Finn kissed it from his mouth.

"Yeah. Believe me, I know. And maybe someday we can be like that again, where I can... take what I want, and trust it's right for you. But we're not there yet." He rested his fingers at the base of Puck's throat. "But just because it's not easy doesn't mean it's not worth it, okay? I'm willing to - to work at it. At this. Because you're worth it."

Puck let out a strangled groan, and Finn held on, feeling him stagger against him. He lowered Puck down onto the mattress under the window, the same bed where he'd taken Puck the very first time he'd touched him this way, almost three months ago. It felt a little like that, like the first time again. He stretched Puck's arms out over his head, gently now, letting him know it wasn't to control him, but to care for him. His knuckles brushed along the margin of Puck's arm, down his side as Puck lay there, trembling.

"I love you," Finn said softly.

"Fuck, Hudson," Puck replied, in the same reverent tone. "You're such a sap."

Finn smiled, trying not to let the laughter overwhelm him or break the spell of their silence. "Yeah, I know. You're just going to have to deal."

Puck blinked up at him. "Thought you were asking me?"

"No," he said. "Not asking. Not about that one."

He reached up above his head and took Puck's hands in his, interlacing their fingers, and swung a leg over him, holding him spread-eagle on the bed, as wide as his arms and legs would go on the narrow mattress. Puck whimpered. It was a delicious sound, and Finn had to close his eyes for a moment, allowing it to ripple through him.

"You're so fucking gorgeous." Finn punctuated the words with a grinding thrust against him. He wasn't letting Puck's hands up, though he would have, if Puck had asked him. That made it okay, because if Puck didn't want it, he was going to stop, and Finn was listening hard for anything that sounded remotely like  _no_.

_Carl made me choose a safe word,_  he realized suddenly.  _Puck never had one with me, but... maybe we should. Maybe we need that now._  He leaned in over him, close to his ear, feeling the tension increase with the pressure of his body.

"You think you'd be able to tell me no, if you didn't want something?" he asked, kissing his neck. Puck opened his mouth to respond, but it took him a few tries.

"Uh... god... I - I think I would have a hard time saying no to anything you wanted. I mean, I think you wanting it would... make me want it."

The offer was so compelling. Finn would have been more than happy to leave it there, but he needed to be sure. He kissed him again. "I got it, and that's amazing. And... I still think I'd need you to tell me if something felt wrong, or even a little weird. Something you could say that would - get my attention, if you needed me to hang on for a second, or stop."

He could see Puck's hesitation. "I... don't want you to stop."

Finn smiled. "You don't even know what I want to do to you. I've got a big imagination, and a bunch of stuff that might be new to you. Carl's a good teacher, and he's... creative."

"Fuck, yeah," said Puck with feeling. "I'm more than a little curious to hear about that stuff. And... Adam, he..." He stopped.

Finn waited a few moments. "What did Adam do?"

Puck's expression was hard to read in the dark, but when he squirmed a little, Finn let him have his hands back. He touched his own neck, and his wrists, and Finn went still.

"Oh," he said again, feeling lightheaded. "He... um. He put a collar on you?"

"And cuffs. He - he chained me to the bed."

"You liked that," Finn guessed. Puck nodded silently. Finn took a deep breath before going on. "He didn't... the collar, it wasn't, like... a promise?"

"No." Finn could hear the longing in his voice. "No, he's not - we're not ready for that. I mean, dude, I just met him. But Kurt... he said we could get some of those. Cuffs, and... a collar."

Finn struggled with the warring feelings of jealousy and protectiveness that threatened to overwhelm him. He gathered Puck in his arms, holding him close.  _Mine._

"I'm... I'm glad," he said. "Maybe... if you wanted, we could... look at those together."

"Yeah. That'd be awesome." Puck spoke quietly into his neck, still hesitant. "You're really sure you want that with me?"

Finn let out a surprised laugh, just a puff of air. "Yeah, I'm sure. I've never been so sure about anything." He let go of Puck, giving him a little space between them. He could see Puck's wary eyes, watching him. "You thought I didn't want that anymore?"

"I thought... I don't know what I thought. All this stuff with Rachel, and then  _Patrick,_  and I felt..." Puck shrugged.

FInn had a pretty good idea exactly what he'd felt.  _Replaced. Irrelevant. Unloved._  He spoke to Puck in the dark, letting him hear all the thoughts and explanations and fears he'd let go unsaid. It was time to say them all, now.

"For a long time I wasn't sure I could do this at all anymore. But before we left for California, I started to think, maybe I could give this to Patrick. And that... it gave me hope, for us. Because you're - so fucking important to me. I don't think I could name one person higher than you on my list. Not Carl, not Kurt, not anybody. You're my best friend." He touched Puck's bare shoulder. "Watching you and Adam together... it made me mad. Not because I don't think you guys should have that, because he's totally giving you what you need, and that's awesome. But  _I_  want to do that, too. I  _want_  to be in charge of you, like Adam is with you. Like Carl is with me."

Puck shook his head. "I just don't get it, Finn. I've got all this shit going on in my life. So much of the time, I can't even do what you tell me. Taking care of me... it's complicated. Way too complicated. Why the hell would you  _want_ something like that?"

FInn had to smile. "Dude... you're the one who's decided you're going to adopt a baby. I'd say that wins for complicated. Why would you choose  _that_?"

"I told you," Puck said, sounding angry, but then he paused. When he went on, he sounded thoughtful, subdued. "I can't  _not_  do it. I just can't stop loving her."

He leaned over and kissed Puck, staying close. "Bingo."

"But you said you couldn't. You said -"

"I was freaking out," Finn said. "I can't swear I won't freak out again, or make another equally heinous mistake. As long as you're willing to let me, though, I think I'm ready to try again." His hand on Puck's shoulder tightened, and Puck sucked in a breath. "And I  _want_ it."

"Want it," Puck echoed with a groan, "god, so much..."

This time Puck threw himself into his kisses with abandon, pressing up against Finn, tearing at him like he thought Finn might disappear. He could hear Puck muttering  _want you, please, fuck me now,_  but it wasn't until he caught the word  _yours_  that he stopped.

"Mine?" he demanded. "You're mine?"

Puck, hovering over Finn's mouth, nodded fervently. "Want that. Long as you can stand me being someone else's too."

Finn recalled Adam's friendly acceptance of him in his living room, and his own words to Burt about Adam:  _I trust him; this is the best place for Kurt. He'll take care of him._  If Adam could do that for Kurt, he could sure as hell do it for Puck, too.

"We'll work it out," he said, between kisses. "Me and Kurt, and Adam, we can work it out." It didn't even seem so impossible, not here, under the benediction of Puck's forgiveness.

And the vision of the collar and cuffs that Puck had planted in his head stayed with him, as he flipped him over and worked the lube into him, made him slick and loose, until Puck was gasping with each thrust of his fingers.

"Tell me you want it," Finn said, although the question by now wasn't for the sake of permission; it was just fucking hot to see him that worked up. The words were falling out of Puck's mouth now, all the ways he wanted Finn to hold him down and take him in dizzying variation, while Finn made himself wait for it  _just one more second - one more -_

And then, in one smooth stroke, he filled him, while Puck muffled his shouts in Finn's wadded-up sheets. Finn managed to last a scant few seconds more before his own release claimed him. He clasped him in his arms, straining into him.

"Mine," he said, and again, urgently: " _mine."_

"Yeah," mumbled Puck. His words were blurred and indistinct, face half-pressed into Finn's pillow. "Fucking right I am."

They didn't move much at all for several minutes afterwards, just enough for Finn to slip free and adjust his position, holding Puck more securely against his chest. He kissed Puck's ear.

"My boy," he dared to whisper, and felt Puck shudder, once. He craned his neck, anxiously watching his reaction. "If - if you want that."

"Want that," Puck whispered back, his lips trembling. "Want so many things."

Finn knew they didn't have to figure everything out tonight. They'd need to take small steps, to get back to anything like the way it had been. But it was a start. He'd said  _yours_ when Finn had said  _mine._  He'd listened, and heard him, when Finn had opened up to him. However long it took, Finn could feel the boy in his arms, strong and solid and familiar.  _His_  boy.

"You can have that," Finn promised. "As long as you want it, you're mine."

* * *

[ _http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=299UVPSEWBA_ ](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=299UVPSEWBA)

_Drew a map of my heart_   
_Painted it melancholy blue_   
_And the biggest room is empty_   
_And it's waiting for you_   
_You can see where we've gone_   
_How our paths twist like vines_   
_But the valleys are so dark  
_ _And the hills are sublime_

_Cause I know I hurt you bad_   
_And this is not enough_   
_And hearts are usually red_   
_And the edges are too rough_   
_And I'm trying to make amends here_   
_And I don't know where to start  
_ _So I'm giving you this map of my heart_

_Drawn this map of my heart_   
_Drawn every single scar_   
_When I close my eyes_   
_I can feel exactly where they are_   
_Drew a great room for forgiveness_   
_And a big room for forgetting_   
_Drew a great big room for mercy  
_ _And the biggest for regretting_

_You can hang it on a wall, you can hide it in a drawer_   
_But one thing you should know_   
_It'll show you what's in store_   
_So if you choose to tear it up and walk away from me_   
_Well, I guess I'd understand  
_ _Cause it's got no guarantee_

_Cause I know I hurt you bad_   
_And this is not enough_   
_And hearts are usually red_   
_And the edges are too rough_   
_And I'm trying to make amends here_   
_And I don't know where to start  
_ _So I'm giving you this map of my heart_

_\- Lynn Miles, "Map of My Heart"_


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt returns home from California, and everything's different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The three boys are all together, at least. Wrapping up Madonna and moving on to Home, it's obvious how much I love writing season 1 Glee. Not that I don't have affection for Glee 2.0, but... this is *my* home, my OT3 if I could possibly choose one of those, and they're very dear to me. Warnings in this chapter for m/m/m sex. Enjoy. 
> 
> -amy

Kurt managed to send several texts while he was waiting for the plane to taxi down the runway and let him off, even if technically he wasn't supposed to do that. The flight attendant didn't threaten to take it from him, anyway, although that may have been due to the maniacal expression on his face while he was sending them.

Mercedes was taking him seriously, at least, once she got past the idea that space aliens had taken over his brain.  _The Cheerios, Kurt? Really?_  she said more than once, but by the time he actually got from LA to Dayton, she'd accepted it and gotten permission from her parents. Santana, on the other hand, was still skeptical, and every time she relayed information about her convos with Coach Sylvester, she included a little snarky comment. Kurt was surprised she wasn't making comments about Finn's skills in bed, too, although that might have been dangerous if anyone had chosen to read her text logs. (Kurt and Puck had long since changed their own phone identities back from "Santana X. Lopez" and "Rachel X. Berry" to their actual identities; there were advantages to being out as boyfriends, after all.)

 _Finn._ Kurt rested his forehead on the plastic wall of the plane, looking out the window at the tarmac, but he was seeing something completely different. He'd been so sweet on the phone the night before, giving Kurt plenty of space to say goodbye to Adam. It was comforting, really, to know that no matter how full his heart was of Adam and Noah, he could still feel just as much love for Finn as he ever had.  _Maybe more, if that was possible._  If love actually was finite, he hadn't come anywhere close to reaching the limit to his capacity to feel things for people.

His dad was being incredibly calm about the whole experience of Kurt having to spend a couple extra days in LA. "It's not your fault you got sick," he said, when Kurt apologized for the dozenth time. "Missing one extra day of school isn't going to hurt anybody. Let's hope your plane ride home is uneventful." It had been, actually; riding on a plane felt a lot less taxing on the way home, even though he was losing three hours instead of gaining them. Maybe he was stronger than he had been on his way out. He certainly _felt_ different, and it wasn't just the new hairstyle Luis had tried. He wondered if anybody would notice.

 _Home now,_  he texted Adam as he packed up his carry-on.

He wouldn't have been surprised not to get a reply; they'd been up pretty late the night before. But Adam was there.  _Thank you, honey. First hug you give Noah is from me._

Puck's phone call to Adam the night before had been more than a little anxious. Kurt really wasn't sure what to think about about Puck's dad contacting him like this, especially after the way he'd shown up at Ruth's funeral. Puck hadn't had much to say about it, other than to say they'd planned to get together for a burger after school on Thursday, but his voice had made Kurt itch to be there in person to hold him and tell him it was okay.

"Go over to my house," Kurt had urged, but Puck had refused.

"I was there last night, and it was fine. Burt doesn't need me hanging around for no reason."

Kurt wasn't sure how to convince Puck that he didn't need a  _reason_  to be at the house, and dads just spent time with their kids for no reason all the time, and wasn't that the whole point of trying to adopt him in the first place? But Puck's understanding of how parents and children should relate often fell short, and no measure of talking was going to change that. He knew Puck was going to have to see it play out for himself. And Kurt wasn't going to force the issue of him visiting the house. There had been a whole set of very good reasons for Puck to get his own apartment.

He took the long walk back to the main terminal slowly, letting the escalators carry him instead of moving ahead in the WALK lane. He wasn't exactly sure what to expect when he got there. His dad had said,  _we'll be there to pick you up,_  but that'd been all, no specifics about who or where they'd be.

But as he emerged from the double doors onto the baggage claim, he stopped, clutching the hand rail. There was his dad, waiting with a smile, and Finn and Puck both, standing close enough to allow their hands to brush.

"Oh," he whispered, feeling his throat close up. He had no idea who to hug first, but Puck solved that problem by rushing ahead to sweep him up in his arms.

"Baby," he murmured.

This just made Kurt choke harder on his reply, but he clutched him hard, feeling him strong and safe. "Sweetheart..." He pulled away, conscious of passers-by watching them, but not willing to curb his concern to suit their needs. This was about Noah, and he needed to know he was okay. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." Puck didn't turn to face FInn, but Kurt could feel him aware of Finn approaching them from behind - not too close, but there, and watching. He grinned. "A lot better."

Kurt felt his own eyes widen as he gazed over Puck's shoulder at FInn, whose face bore a much more calm version of the same expression. "Did he - he didn't...!"

"I didn't," Finn confirmed. He looked over at Kurt's dad, who was waiting patiently for his turn, and lowered his voice before adding, "But we talked about it."

It was easier after that to let Puck go and hug his dad. "I missed you," was the first thing that came out of his mouth, and he heard his dad take a slow breath.

"Yeah, buddy, me too. This weekend turned into something a lot longer than I'd anticipated." He held Kurt at arm's length, looking at his face soberly before resting a hand on his forehead. "How are you feeling? You look better. Good, even."

"I feel a lot better," he agreed. "I still have five days of antibiotics to go, but they're definitely working."

Burt nodded. As he looked Kurt over, though, his expression changed. "How... was your trip?" When Kurt hesitated, he glanced over at Finn, and added, "Maybe this isn't the right place to ask that question."

"No," Finn replied quickly, "no, it's fine. I think we're all okay with... how things went this weekend. For everybody."

Burt nodded again - and Kurt realized, suddenly, what the expression on his dad's face meant. It was fear.

"I had... a transformative experience," he said carefully, "and I would be happy to tell you as much as you want to hear. And... I'm really glad to be home, with all of you."

His dad relaxed, his face softening. "That's really good to hear. A transformative experience, huh? I don't need to be worried about you doing drugs, do I? Because you know I don't -"

"No, no," Kurt assured him, following Finn over to the baggage carousel. "Nothing like that. We... well, there was a lot of music, and we ate great food, and there was - we saw a musical, me and Finn, and - oh, god, Dad, Adam got a '64-and-a-half Mustang for me to drive -"

"He  _what?"_  Burt exclaimed. Puck nearly stumbled into him as Burt stopped where he was, staring at him. "He can't - Kurt, that's way too much."

"He explained it, Mr. H, it was cheaper than renting a car," Puck interrupted. "Adam really wanted to do it for Kurt. It wasn't weird, it was just awesome."

Burt still looked suspicious, but he subsided while they waited for Kurt's luggage to appear. Finally he turned to him, putting a concerned hand on his arm. "Kurt... I really do want to let you have... these experiences, with your, um. Your friends. But I think it's important you realize things are different when you're talking about somebody who's a lot older than you. There are things adults need that kids might not be prepared to give them."

"He didn't pressure me, Dad," Kurt said. It was no effort to say this with complete confidence, and although Kurt could tell it wasn't completely reassuring him, Burt nodded. He went on. "You can ask Finn. He gave me every opportunity to say no, and let me decide what I was ready for. The car'll be Timothy's, while he's in LA."

"Timmy's not coming back to Lima?" Burt was clearly confused. He reached onto the baggage carousel and grasped the handle of one of Kurt's suitcases, while Puck got the other.

"Mostly because he's staying to work with Lady Gaga, but he met a guy. Adam's bodyguard." Puck was frowning. "Who was, supposedly, straight."

"Yeah, but I thought I was, too, for a long time," Finn pointed out.

Kurt took Finn's arm, appreciating the smile he got in return. "Feelings can change," he agreed. "We don't have a lot of control over what we want. Regardless, I think Jacob could be good for Timothy."

Burt shook his head, walking close beside Kurt as they made their way toward the parking structure. "This is already getting complicated. Why don't we start with something a little simpler. Tell me about this Lady Gaga person."

Kurt described their afternoon at the mansion in Bel-Air, with Finn and Puck filling in details about how they sang with her, and Puck made pasta sauce.

"I played her the song I wrote," Kurt added, shivering a little in his thin jacket in the January air - had it really been sixty-three in Los Angeles when he'd left? "The solo piano piece for Adam. I was pretty sure I wasn't going to have the courage to go through with performing it for him, but her encouragement helped a lot. The music was phenomenal. The opportunity to jam with her, alone, made it all worth the trip."

Burt unlocked the back door of the Navigator and loaded Kurt's luggage inside, eyeing him. "But... that wasn't the best part, huh."

Kurt blushed, taking a few moments to climb into the middle row to sit between Puck and Finn. Noah's hand on his knee and Finn's hand in his gave him confidence, but it was the memory of Adam's face in his mind, smiling at him, encouraging him, saying  _honey_  in his sweet voice, that allowed him to answer his father calmly. "No. That wasn't the best part."

His dad stuck the key into the ignition and sighed, twisting in his seat to look at the three boys behind him. "You're making me ask the questions, aren't you?"

"Dad..." Kurt began, but Puck cut him off.

"He's in love with him. Same as me, and Adam feels the same way."

Burt didn't look upset, or even surprised, but he shook his head in weary resignation, like he'd been fighting it too long. Kurt imagined, with a pang, his dad doing just that the whole time he'd been gone. "Yeah. At least I can't expect this one to show up on my doorstep."

"Uh, actually," Puck volunteered, "for Valentine's Day, he's -"

"We'll need to talk about it," Kurt interrupted, shooting a look at Puck that he hoped conveyed  _shut up_  without making him feel bad. "Dad, I know this is a lot to take in."

His dad pulled forward onto the exit ramp, stopping to give the attendant his credit card. Kurt wasn't reassured by his chuckle. "Actually, Kurt, you flying to Los Angeles for a weekend without me? That was a lot to take in. You, in a triangle relationship with a guy thirteen years older than you are?  _That's_  bordering on insanity. You can't expect your old man to deal with -"

"Triad," Finn remarked. Burt paused, looking somewhat annoyed at being interrupted just when he was getting up a head of steam.

"What?

"You said  _triangle._  They're together, the way me and Kurt and Puck are together. It's a triad." Finn shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "I just thought you might want to use the right word."

"Yeah. Okay." Burt still looked a little perplexed, and he waited in silence as he accelerated onto the highway back to Lima. "And... you, Finn? You're not part of this... thing?"

"No, sir." He was too far away to reach Noah's hand, but Puck immediately reached across Kurt's stomach for Finn's anyway, grasping it. "But I can tell it makes them happy, and Adam's a good guy. I mean, forget all of the celebrity stuff. He's a performer, yeah, but this... it's not performing. He really wants to... um. Work at this relationship? To make this happen."

"I can tell." Burt reached into his jacket pocket and drew out his phone, tossing it into Kurt's lap. "We've been texting back and forth all weekend."

Kurt stared at the phone, but it was Noah who grabbed it out of his lap with an excited, "No way!" and paged through the texting history. "Holy sh- uh, dang, Burt, you guys wrote a  _book._ " He held it out for Kurt to read, but Kurt just shook his head, feeling dazed. His dad looked at him over his shoulder again. He smiled, a little wistfully.

"I'm not a hundred percent sold," he told Kurt. "But I'm well on my way. Seeing your face when you got off that plane helped a lot. Talking to Adam frankly, man to man, gave me more reasons to trust that expression - that it means this thing with him, it might be good for you."

"It does, Dad," Kurt promised fervently.

"Because you're still my kid, no matter how far away you go, or... or how many guys you add to your dance card. I'm still responsible for you, and you're asking me to take some pretty big risks." Burt's mouth twisted. "I'm reasonably sure you guys are being safe, at least."

It was embarrassing to hear his dad talking about  _that,_  but Kurt felt more relieved than anything else to hear it. "I'm glad you trust me."

Burt snorted. "I do trust you... as much as I would have trusted myself at sixteen years old. No, that's not why I'm sure. It's because of Dr. Howell."

Finn froze where he was, as Kurt and Puck turned to look at him. "... Carl?"

"Yeah." The word came out like a sigh. "It's been a busy weekend. Lots of visitors to the house while you guys were gone. We had a conversation. Seems that he wants to take you to Tessera for Valentine's Day weekend."

"I - he -" Finn was completely at a loss for words. But Burt was going on.

"I told him about Tess' invitation for us to come down for a family vacation, and he has tentative plans to join us there. But that's between the two of you, Finn; if you decide that's not what you want, your mom and I will back you up." A pained expression came over his face. "And he brought up your agreement. The... five of you."

"Oh." Kurt couldn't say much more, himself. He was glad he was already sitting down. "Dad... I'm sorry I didn't - um. Talk to you about this."  _Ask permission_  wasn't quite what he was going for, but as he watched the pain and frustration crawl over his dad's features, he realized it might not be far off. "I just didn't  _know_  if what Adam and I - what we thought we were feeling, if it was going to be - and then it  _was,_  and I couldn't -"

"Well, yeah, Kurt, you could have." Burt's anger came through for one moment before it subsided. "I really thought we were doing pretty well with this communication stuff, with you three guys and Carole and me, but I guess I overestimated your willingness to share before the fact. This isn't a kid at your school. This is a grown man, one who could have easily have taken advantage of you."

He let his breath out slowly. "I'm sorry you think so little of me that I would -"

"Kurt, it's not like that. I am your father. It is my  _job_  to be overprotective, and this? This does  _not_  qualify!" He gave them one stern glance in the rear-view mirror as he accelerated around the bus in front of them. "And this goes for the two of you, too, okay? You're playing with complicated relationship stuff, and if you're asking for freedom, you're gonna have to live with some rules too. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Finn said immediately, with Puck's mumbled echo a heartbeat behind. Kurt was silent for several more seconds before he caught Finn's prompting eyebrow.

"You got that, Kurt?" Burt said again.

Kurt glared at him. "What exactly are you asking?"

" _Kurt,"_  Finn said, and Kurt caught his lip between his teeth. That - that was Finn's  _Voice._ Kurt hadn't heard it from him in weeks. Puck shifted restlessly on the bench seat beside him, watching them uneasily.

"Yes... sir," said Kurt.

His dad shot him a disbelieving glance, because Kurt hadn't called him that possibly  _ever,_  and he was bound to think Kurt was making a sarcastic comment. The fact that Kurt wasn't responding to him might not cross his mind, and Kurt was counting on it.

"I'm just asking," Burt said in a more reasonable tone, "that you consider that you're still a minor, and - for God's sake, Kurt, did you even  _consider_  that you might be breaking the law?"

"Not in Ohio," he replied, trying to keep his voice calm. Puck made a funny strangled noise in the back of his throat.

"You weren't  _in_  Ohio." Kurt thought his dad might be suppressing a smile of his own, but whatever was going on, it didn't break through his stern demeanor. "You know what I think of stupid laws, but they are laws, and they could have very real consequences."

"Trust me, Dad, Adam's not going to do anything even remotely public with me, or Noah. It's going to have to be as private as Carl and Finn's relationship." He knew it wasn't the time to be angsty about that, but something must have shown in his voice, because Finn was immediately applying a little extra pressure to his hand. He sighed. "I'm sorry I made you worry. I really intended to talk to you about it, when I knew for sure how we stood."

He watched his dad nod slowly. "So... in your own words, then? How do you stand? You and Adam?"

Kurt gave Finn one last desperate, silent appeal, and took comfort in his encouraging nod, before taking a deep breath, straightening his shoulders. He wasn't going to let himself look away.

"It's still new," he said, softly at first, but with increasing strength as he went on. "I have to assume things are still going to change a lot, considering how far we've come in just a few weeks. It helped that Noah had already given him his trust, and Tess seemed to approve? But it wasn't just that. He... he's romantic. And funny, and thoughtful... he sent me flowers."

"You were pretty clear that was just a gesture of apology," Burt pointed out. They were pulling off the highway now.

"Maybe. I think I was just afraid, of how I was feeling, or how I might be feeling - could possibly be feeling, without having actually met him, but... I think I knew, that night, that I was starting to fall for him."

"And now that you've met?"

"It's real," Kurt said, and laughed, shaking his head. He put all the feeling he could muster into his reply. "I am so crazy in love with him, I really don't know what I'm going to do."

Puck let out his breath in a shaky sigh. When Kurt turned toward him, he could see the tears poised in his eyes. Kurt pressed his hand into Puck's leg:  _soon._

"But I don't feel sad about it," he went on. "Other than being sure I'm going to miss him horribly, I just feel... stronger. A little smarter about myself, maybe. Older. Dad, I'm better, for loving him, and being loved by him. And it hasn't done one thing to change the way I feel about Finn or Noah."

His dad was silent all the way back to the house. As Finn and Puck took the luggage into the basement through the garage door, he came over to Kurt, his face serious.

"I'm not gonna pretend I'm not worried for you, sport," he said. "You're taking some risks here. I don't want you to get your heart broken."

"It's so worth it," Kurt tried to tell him, but Burt held him off with one hand.

"I'm not telling you not to do it. You got that? I'm not, and I won't. That's not how I raised you. You learned to listen to your own heart from day one, and nobody knows that but you. But... I need you to be extra careful here. There are too many people involved for it to be any other way."

This time, Kurt nodded with complete agreement, and his dad hugged him hard.

"Sometimes when I watch the three of you," said Burt, a little more quietly, "I think about your mom, and how much I loved her. Still love her. And I think about Carole, how she's so completely different, and there's no way my feelings for her could ever be limited by the way I still love your mom. And I think, maybe I get it, a little... how, and why, you're doing this."

"Thank you, dad," he whispered.

Burt smiled at him. "I'm thinking you might need some rest.  _Rest,_  understand. But I'll hole up in my office for a couple hours, and then I'll come out around dinner. Sound reasonable?"

Kurt blushed. "That's perfect."

He was tired, it was true, but his California senses told him it was only noon, even though school here was out already. Even though the excitement of joining the Cheerios would be waiting when he returned, and everyone in Glee, Kurt was glad to have a little time away from the normalcy of high school. He needed to find a way to accommodate this older, wiser self, the one who was having a mature, intimate relationship with a man thirteen years his senior.

 _And who appears regularly in gossip magazines and talk shows,_  his not-so-mature side enthused.

"Be quiet," he muttered, removing his shoes and socks and wiggling his toes. Finn emerged from the bathroom, moving to stand very close and put an arm around him.

"I don't think your dad can hear us from his office," he said. "And I don't know about you, but quiet wasn't exactly on my agenda."

Kurt leaned over to kiss him. He was glad that it still felt as good as it had before he'd spent all those hours kissing Adam.

"I'm definitely not telling  _you_  to be quiet," he assured Finn. "Before anything else happens, however, I think I need a shower, though, and a few moments to myself with my moisturizers. They've been lonely while I've been gone."

Kurt's shower wasn't anything as amazing as Adam's, but he came close to using up the hot water anyway, and  _a few moments_ ended up translating to about a half hour. In the end, it was the noises that drew him out of the bathroom, skin tingling and wearing his white fleece robe. He paused in the doorway to appreciate what was waiting for him on his bed.

Finn had stripped down to his jeans and was poised over a naked Puck, who was face down on the mattress. He had Puck's arms captured behind him, bent into a triangle in which his wrists overlapped; Finn held them securely in one hand. It was clear that Finn, his mouth working at the skin around Puck's left ear, growling phrases that were making him squirm, was not having any kind of an emotional problem with this. It was equally clear that Puck was eating it up like chantilly cream.

"Ohhh," Kurt breathed, leaning against the door frame. There was no way he could have stopped the shit-eating grin from appearing on his face, even if he had wanted to. "This. I know it's not at all about me, but... I have really, really missed this."

"Oh, I don't know," said Finn, running a hand over Puck's bare arm. "I think it might be partially about you. Some people really,  _really_  like to be watched. And heard." He leaned in close again, smiling with smug satisfaction. "Isn't that right?"

"Oh god," Puck whined. Finn tipped his face up to Kurt's, grinning in wild delight.

"He's letting me do this," he said. "I can't believe it. And he's  _responding._  I feel like I'm getting away with something really unbelievable here."

Kurt gestured grandly. "Don't let me stop you. I'm good right here, for now."

It was fascinating to watch Finn work, particularly in light of everything he'd been up to for the past three weeks with Carl. Kurt knew they weren't having sex, at least not as defined by a particular penetrative act, but based on Finn's stories they were doing just about everything else. And now, Finn was dirty-talking Puck into a frenzy with his constant low, smooth patter about exactly what  _he_  was going to do to Puck.

"... your legs open, keep them spread wide," Finn was murmuring, his hand tracing a trail from Puck's ass all the way up to the nape of his neck and back down again, over and over, resting just a little longer each time on the sensitive spot on the base of his spine. As far as Kurt could tell, Finn hadn't touched Puck's cock at all. "You'll have no choice but to let me inside, filling you up..."

"Oh, fuck." Puck was twisting forward, not trying to get away, but useless with desire, rutting for any form of friction he could find. Finn held on, not letting him go, but he was starting to falter, looking uncertain about how far to push it. Kurt bit his lip, taking one step forward.

"May I...?" he asked. Finn nodded, looking grateful and a little relieved.

"Next to him, along the bed," he suggested. "Keep him focused. He's still resisting."

Nobody knew Puck like Finn did. It hadn't even occurred to Kurt that this might be what  _resisting_  looked like, but as he watched Puck's face, he realized it was true. Being this close to Puck, fraught with tension and desire, he could see it even more clearly.

"Sweetheart," he said, stroking his face. Puck leaned his head into Kurt's palm, the sweat tracing fine runnels along the fine bones of his cheek, his jaw, along his neck. "You're safe. You're doing everything right."

"Can't," he gasped after a moment, though he seemed perfectly willing to allow Finn to go on doing what he was doing between his legs. Kurt kissed him hard, but that wasn't helping Puck to unclench his eyes or surrender to the ruthless thrusts of Finn's fingers.

"You're fine. Finn's here, he's taking care of everything. Can't you feel him, loving you? Taking just what you have, it's perfect. Such a good boy."

That opened Puck's eyes, if only briefly. His head tipped back, glancing at Finn, and he swallowed thickly. "Yours?"

"Yes, sweetheart, absolutely." Kurt hoped that expression on Puck's face would never fail to reduce him to a useless heap of rubble, but right now, he could hold out long enough to make sure of Puck's own participation, too. "You're -"

"Mine," Finn interjected. It was sudden and emphatic enough to make Puck jerk back, his eyes rolling like a startled horse's. Finn met Kurt's gaze over Puck's back, steady and sure, and nodded. It wasn't permission. It was an acknowledgement that what they'd created, with their words and actions and promises, was still in force.  _We're doing this together, the three of us._

"And mine," Kurt finished. By now Puck was practically salivating, his head resting on the mattress while he breathed, leaning up against Kurt while he keened out his desperate need. Kurt knew he didn't have to resist whatever urge came over him, and when he let the robe fall to the floor, it only felt right to kneel before him on the bed and brush Puck's face with the head of his swollen cock. "Show me."

Puck was able to gasp out a grateful, dizzied, "Yes, sir -" before opening his mouth and taking Kurt deep into his throat. It was all Kurt could do to remain upright. He shifted onto the bed, still on his knees, and leaned across Puck's back to press his lips against Finn's.

"God, Kurt," said Finn, between kisses, "the two of you, so hot, I can't even tell you."

In that moment, all of Kurt's fears about the future, all the terrifying ideas he'd told Adam about giving up his dreams for his relationships, or vice-versa - they were completely obliterated by the  _rightness_  of the three of them connecting. It wasn't logical, but it was undeniably real, and no matter how hard or complicated it might be, it was exactly what he wanted.

He stroked one hand over Puck's head and the other against Finn's cheek as he smiled. "It's going to be a lot hotter when you're inside him."

Finn barely slowed down, reaching for the lube. Kurt didn't really want to think about his dad's comment about  _being safe_  just then. The kind of safe they'd always been had been the kind that involved trust instead of latex.  _Condoms with other people,_ was what they'd agreed, _but with us, just skin._

But it wasn't as simple as that anymore, because they'd agreed, too, that oral sex without condoms was a reasonable risk. And now that they were actually putting the rule into play, Kurt could see, as if from a dizzying height, the layers of trust it would take to make this safe. Adam's lovers, current and past, and Carl's lovers - they were kind of sharing fluids with them, too. It was more than a little terrifying to think how one little choice could potentially put them all at risk.

"We all need to get tested," Kurt blurted. When Finn stopped to stare at him, he added, "I don't mean - no, nothing happened, I just... I think it would be smart, and responsible? And I want to be sure when we say we're safe, we're  _actually_  safe."

Finn nodded, pressing his lips together. He took Kurt's hand, resting it together with his on Puck's back. Puck didn't seem to be pausing to listen to the conversation, and Kurt was more than willing to be distracted by what he was doing with his mouth on him. He moaned, throwing himself into the moment.

"That's it, baby," Finn urged quietly, nodding in appreciation. "You use his mouth, just like that."

Noah groaned at the idea and worked a little harder, took Kurt a little deeper. It was becoming a challenge to keep his focus; his head swam with the need to hold Puck down and do exactly that. He could see the same hungry, determined expression on Finn's face.  _Mine,_  it said. It wasn't a competition, not with Finn, nor with Adam, but he'd be lying if he didn't feel possessive.

Kurt watched Finn's hands come down to grip Puck's hips as he slid into him. Finn wasn't being gentle, but the ideas - the  _memories_  of what Finn's hands had once done for Puck, what his own hand did, how Adam had shown him how to use the paddle - that was what was driving him now. He felt Puck's relieved exclamation right through his own cock, and he let the combination of sights and sounds and fantasies push him over the edge. Puck, true to form, took it beautifully before joining him.

Finn, on the other hand, took his surprisingly leisurely time, clearly relishing every long, slow stroke. He pressed Puck forward into the bed, grinding against him with each thrust, until finally he curled his arms around him, holding him close while he shuddered out his release.

"The two of you together always makes everything we do so much hotter," he said, pulling Kurt down to lie beside them. "I wasn't sure you were going to want it anymore."

"Me?" Kurt exclaimed, startled. He watched Puck's blissed-out face; he was beyond conversation now. "I - no, Finn, that's not how I feel. It's almost the opposite. I'm in love with Adam -  _and_  I love you, more than I thought possible. I think being in love with him has just increased my capacity to love  _everybody_  more."

Finn smiled. He didn't look at all worried anymore. "I really get that. Seeing the two of you be so happy with Adam... it made me feel better about how I've been with Carl. Kind of... well, maybe a little obsessed?"

"Maybe a little," Kurt agreed. "And I can admit, I'm less envious and scared of your experience, now that I'm having my own. I hope next time, I'll be able to see more clearly what's going on, without giving in to jealousy."

"Next time?" Finn laughed, resting his head on his propped-up elbow. "How likely is it that  _any_  of us is going to be falling in love with anybody else?"

Kurt didn't smile back. "Maybe more likely," he said seriously. "Now that we're open to it. You never know what might happen. Think about Noah's boy from the club. What if he went to Masque again and found him there? Things would definitely happen. I think Noah's half in love with him - or the idea of him, anyway - already."

"That's just an idea, though." Finn looked a little uneasy. "Tess even said, he's not a real person."

"Real," Puck muttered. He rolled over to lie on his back, wincing a little, and gazed up at Finn from within the crook of his arm. "Feels real, in the dreams. Just like my daughter does." They both moved in to kiss Puck on either side of his face in silence, and Puck sighed contentment, his eyes slipping closed again. "I guess I can't really know for sure."

"Maybe we should go looking for him, though," Kurt said. "All this time, it's been over a month and your subconscious is still thinking about him every night? Even in the midst of all of this with Adam? I think it could be important."

Puck grinned. "I sure as hell wouldn't mind going back down to dance with you again. But what are the odds of seeing - him? I don't even remember his name."

"No, but... it's more the  _way_  you were with him. That's different, from the way you are with any of us. Like Finn is different with Carl. Maybe you need that, too."

Finn watched Kurt talking with a half-smile on his face. "Listen to you. You're kind of amazing, baby. I think you're different, now, too."

Kurt flushed. "I  _feel_ different. Like I said in the car, I feel a little older and wiser, having had this experience with Adam."

HIs smile widened. "That's the way to lose your virginity, baby. Not like the way I did it with San and Britt."

"Hey, I don't think there's one right way," Puck argued. "Casual sex can be awesome, too."

"Not for me. It was just hollow. Neither of them cared about me, other than as kind-of friends, and getting me off. I might as well have been a sex toy for all it mattered to them."

Puck's eyes went a little distant and glassy as his breathing sped up. "Okay... being used as somebody's sex toy?  _Really_  does it for me."

"I'll remember that," Finn promised. He hesitated, a hand on Puck's chest. "And what we did tonight? That was all okay? No regrets so far?"

"Hell, no." Puck made a disdainful snort. "It was just awesome. You didn't push me that hard, anyway. You didn't even make me call you sir."

Finn looked down. "I never want to  _make_  you do that. It was always something you wanted, before, and if you don't want it now, I'd just as soon not."

"So, when it feels right, then," said Kurt. "You don't have to know everything now."

They settled down on either side of Puck, framing him in the center of Kurt's too-small double bed, while Finn pulled Kurt's mother's old quilt up over all three of them. Puck and Finn let out almost simultaneous yawns. Kurt reached for his phone, sending a text before closing his eyes:  _Home, safe. I'll call tonight before bed._  He didn't wait for the reply before drifting off to sleep.

* * *

Noah had gone back to his apartment, and Finn was still upstairs getting creamed at Monopoly with Sarah, so Carole was the only one on the green couch when Kurt came downstairs after dinner. She scowled at the television. "They keep cancelling all my favorite gardening shows," she said mournfully as he sat down beside her.

"Wouldn't you rather actually do gardening than watch somebody else do it, anyway?" he asked.

"It's about all I have in January." She pulled him in with one arm, hugging him. "Wow, it was quiet around here with the three of you gone, Kurt. Even when Finn and Puck returned, I was a little surprised at how much I missed you."

Kurt smiled, touched. "It's hard to believe it was only five days. It's amazing how much can change in such a short time."

"Adam sounds amazing," Carole agreed. "What a whirlwind romance. I'm really happy it worked out as well as it did."

"It's more than that, though. I feel different, myself." He grinned. "Did Finn tell you I'm joining the Cheerios?"

She stared at him for a moment, then laughed. "That's... I'm not even sure what to say about that, except that I'll be a lot more likely to come to Finn's football games now."

"Coach Sylvester is meeting with me and Mercedes tomorrow, to talk about Friday's pep assembly. It's going to be a big production number. She's on this Madonna kick, and... well, I suggested we might sing this one song, my favorite song from two years ago? And she said yes." He shook his head, marveling. " _Me."_

"You're an astonishing person, Kurt," she said. "Just like your father. I honestly would not be surprised if, between the two of you, you could do just about anything you wanted."

"Run for president?" Kurt joked.

"If you wanted to. I was thinking a little smaller. But I bet you could be class president."

"I think I'll concentrate on finishing out sophomore year," he said. But he couldn't help think about the spectre of Karofsky, bearing down on him in the hallway, looking menacing. It didn't feel scary anymore. It almost seemed beneath his notice. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "But I'll keep it in mind."

She smiled up at him as he stood. "Before you go to bed... can I ask you for a favor?"

"Of course."

"Would you play me that song you wrote for Adam?"

Kurt moved to the old piano along the far wall, seating himself in the center of the bench, and placed his hands on the keys. It wasn't Lady Gaga's beautiful white grand piano, nor was it Adam's fancy weighted keyboard, but it felt familiar to his hands.  _Home,_  he thought, and launched into the first arpeggio with enthusiasm. He tried to imbue each phrase with all the hope and confidence and love he'd gained from his long weekend away, all the inspiration that had sent him out into the world. To be able to have that, and to still be able to come back to all of  _this_... he felt like the luckiest boy in the world.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave sees Kurt in his Cheerios uniform. Jesse transfers to McKinley. The boys put together a Madonna number of their own. Jesse finds out who his sister is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might as well be subtitled: Now Things Start Coming Apart. I'm happy to see Dave show up here, as well as Lauren! And god, I really didn't need another character, but she'll play an important role eventually, so you might as well get to know her now. Enjoy!
> 
> -amy

_You don't need diamond rings_  
 _Or eighteen karat gold_  
 _Fancy cars that go very fast  
_ _You know they never last, no, no_

_What you need is a big strong hand_   
_To lift you to your higher ground_   
_Make you feel like a queen on a throne  
_ _Make him love you till you can't come down_

* * *

Dave's dad was already at the breakfast table when he came downstairs, cutting the coffee cake into equal pieces. He gave Dave a careful smile. "Running a little late this morning?"

"It's nothing." Dave sat across from him, barely perched on the edge of the chair. "I won't be late for morning practice." He reached out and took a piece of the coffee cake, biting into it. He wasn't going to tell his dad about his dreams, or how they sometimes kept him up at night.

Dave didn't have dreams about Matt. Their interactions were the kind of thing he dealt with during his waking hours, matter-of-fact and strictly physical. As far as he could tell, Matt didn't have a problem with this, not that they ever talked about it. Matt was a good guy, and Dave wasn't going to try to complicate what they had, what they did, with talking about Dave's past.

_If you can call it "past," if I'm still thinking about him this often._ Dave let the piece of coffee cake drop from his fingers, feeling his gut twist.  _It's complete fucking bullshit._

No, Dave's dreams were still fully focused on one person, no matter how clear that person had been with him that he'd never wanted more than friendship with  _him._ And now even that was out of the question, ever since he'd completely dissed him in front of Azimio. Called him  _fag,_  and worse, and seen the light go out in his eyes.

_I can't accept your apology,_  he'd said later at the library, when Dave had tried to explain why he'd done it.  _You can't go around treating people like that._

That wasn't quite true. Dave could, and did, go around treating people like that. Some people were so obnoxiously, unfairly privileged, he almost felt justified taking them down a few notches - like that fairy Hummel, the way he acted like he owned Puckerman or something. But Blaine... Blaine deserved it less than anyone he knew. He'd always been good to Dave, ever since they'd become friends, bonding over books and their unlikely common experience. And Dave wasn't going to force it on him, friendship or more.

This meant Dave had stopped trying to call Blaine, and actively went out of his way to avoid him when he was in town, no matter how much Dave might feel like he still needed his friendship sometimes. Half of his dreams were nothing but them sitting and  _talking,_  because there were so many confusing, hard things coming up in his life now, and he really wanted to tell Blaine about them.  _Matt likes it when I kiss him after we do stuff,_ for example,  _and I think it's a little gross, but how do I say wait let me brush my teeth?_ Or,  _my grandmother asked if I had a girlfriend and I choked on my 'not really.'_ Or,  _sometimes I just really need to hug another guy, and why can't we just do that?_

It wasn't exactly sexual, either. Okay, Blaine was cute, he supposed, but Dave never would have named Blaine's body nor his looks as his first or best attribute. If it hadn't been a completely douchebag thing to think, Dave might have said that his heart was hurting, without Blaine in his life. He just missed him, all the time, like a piece of him was absent.

_Your own fucking fault,_ he reminded himself viciously, and swept up the last piece of coffee cake in his hand, hard enough to crush it.

"I'll see you tonight," said his dad as Dave stood, knocking the chair away from the table with his leg as he went. He stifled his growl, mostly because he didn't want his dad to think it was about him. It wasn't; Dave wasn't mad at his dad for anything.

It sucked to be so  _big._  He'd had his growth spurt at the end of freshman year, and Dave hadn't yet grown accustomed to the results. No matter how many times Coach Tanaka assured him that he would settle into his longer limbs and larger frame over time, all he could think was  _why hasn't it happened yet._  The only person who'd grown faster and taller than him was Finn. Azimio had always been big, even before puberty, and he'd never seemed particularly uncomfortable with his bulk. But Dave could feel it, embarrassingly present in everything he did, nudging against the desks at school, crammed under the cafeteria tables. It didn't seem to be getting any better, either. No matter how much weight he lifted or how many sit-ups he did every morning, he still just felt bigger than any fifteen-year-old should be.

_Maybe if you weren't,_  the insidious voices said, taunting him as he made his way onto the cramped yellow school bus,  _Blaine would have liked you. Maybe he would have said yes, instead of never in a million years._

It wasn't like any of these thoughts were new or surprising, but they were all particularly present as he went through his school day. Which, maybe, was why Kurt Hummel walking down the hallway toward him at the end of the day in a  _fucking Cheerios uniform_  hit him as hard as it did.

Dave was vaguely aware that Kurt had been gone for a couple days, but he didn't know the details about where or why. Now he wished he knew he did, because Kurt - looked  _different._ His hair was different, somehow; Dave would never have been able to put a finger on how, unless he'd been looking at before and after shots. But it was more than that. Kurt's entire demeanor had been altered, like somebody had bought him an invisible suit of confidence. Not that Kurt didn't usually exude that shit. Dave narrowed his eyes, approaching him in the hallway, ready to engage.

And Kurt ignored him.

This wasn't a pointed, I-don't-care-but-I-really-do snub. This was Kurt not even acknowledging his existence. He wasn't walking with anybody else, and he didn't pretend to make eye contact with an imaginary friend down the hallway. He just wasn't looking at Dave.

_What the hell?_  His anger surged up before he could stop it, and he stepped out of his path to deliberately cross Kurt's. He was going to  _make_  him look, if it took a -

But Kurt was suddenly and inexplicably surrounded by Cheerios, tossing their hair and jabbering at him in their too-much voices. Dave knew these girls well. These were the girls with whom Dave had always camouflaged himself, ever since he'd first gotten an inkling that girls weren't going to be his focus. But now they were giving Dave warning glares across the hall.  _Since when does Kurt need camouflage?_

The answer came to him within seconds, and he slowed and stopped as the entourage moved on. It wasn't camouflage. It was protection.

Dave watched with baffled, impotent exasperation as the entire school seemed to spend the whole day talking about Kurt Hummel. He didn't even bother to try to interfere; he just observed it happening, like some unfortunate road accident. By the time they got to the pep assembly at the end of the day, it was almost anticlimactic to watch him strut across the gym floor and bump his hips at the crowd as he sang  _4 Minutes._

But when the topic followed him to Matt's house after school, though, Dave decided he had had enough.

"Do we really have to talk about Kurt?" he said, as mildly as he could, shouldering Matt's fridge door open to get the milk. They'd managed to deter Mike from coming along today, at least, which was good, because more than anything else, Dave needed some stress relief. Mike Chang was nice enough, but he was a worse cockblock than Matt's sister Danielle.

"I guess not," said Matt, watching him with curiosity. "I mean, no. What is it?"

"Just, what's the big deal? Why does everybody think the sun rises and sets on Kurt Hummel?" He got a glass out of the cupboard and set it down with a little too much force, sloshing the milk as he poured. Matt's face didn't change, but his eyebrows went up a little on his forehead.

"He's pretty awesome. He was telling us all about visiting Gaga, and -"

"I don't care," Dave interrupted. "I don't  _fucking care,_  okay?"

Matt reached out and took the milk from him, setting it on the counter. "Okay." He put a hand on Dave's arm. "We don't have to talk about him."

Dave was usually the cautious one, double- and triple-checking the hallways and making sure they were safely behind Matt's bedroom door before any kind of contact happened, but today he wasn't going to be that guy. Today he was going to be the guy who took what he needed, no matter how much it hurt. He pushed Matt up against the fridge, kissing him hard, and didn't wait for Matt to catch up with him before he wedged a hand against his crotch, rubbing with barely contained desperation.

"Your room," he grunted, between filthy gropes.

They didn't use words for what they did together. It was easier to deal with his own occasional self-hatred and Matt's frequent spiritual crises without naming the actions that went with Dave's mouth or Matt's fingers or the rest of the body parts that got involved. Today, though, Dave found himself on all fours with Matt kneeling behind him, humping the pillow underneath them and wishing he could ask for something he'd never wanted to ask for before. In his mind, it wasn't Blaine doing any of that stuff to him. He wasn't thinking about anybody but Matt, and the press of Matt's thigh against his ass as Matt reached around to touch him. But no matter how much he wanted it, the possibility of actually doing it seemed as far away as California. For all he was concerned, it could have been another fucking country.

Dave wished desperately he could explain that it wasn't about Kurt at all. Sure, Kurt was an entitled, self-absorbed prick, but there were plenty of those at McKinley, and Dave got to slushie most of them regularly. It was that everything seemed to come so  _easily_  to Kurt. Friends who didn't hate him for being gay? Kurt had eleven of them, and a  _teacher,_  for fuck's sake. A boyfriend? Kurt had  _two._  Okay, he had a weird-ass sense of fashion, but Kurt even made that work for himself. If Dave had ever wanted to tried that shit - not that he did - he'd get his ass handed to him on a plate every day. Dave really, really didn't need to see Kurt leading the Cheerios or hear about him meeting Lady fucking Gaga.

After that, Matt was careful not to bring up Kurt too often. Really, Dave wasn't surprised. Matt was a genuinely nice guy, after all. No matter what was or wasn't happening between them, he felt like he could trust that.

* * *

Will sat back in his chair, feeling dazed, staring out the door of his office. Then he picked up his phone and dialed. It was the middle of both their workdays, and they had barely spoken at all since last weekend, but this couldn't wait.

"Mr. Grey speaking."

Will sighed. The effort to which Toby went to sound more midwestern on the phone made his chest constrict. "Toby..."

"Will!" He sounded downright shocked. "You - are you okay? What's goin' on?"

"I'm about to ask you the same thing. Jesse St. James is transferring to McKinley."

"He -  _what?"_  Now Toby sounded completely dumbfounded. Will took a moment to thank god that he hadn't known. The fact that he'd even considered that Toby would do that to him without telling him was bad enough.

"Yeah. His uncle - a Mr. Howell, I think? - lives here in Lima. And he hadn't mentioned anything to you?"

"Believe me, darlin', I'm as much in the dark here as you are. Jesse mostly deals directly with Shelby. I see him three times a week in mornin' studio and at VA, and that's about it." He swore, none too quietly. "This is going to completely fuck up our choreography. What the  _hell_  was that boy thinkin'?"

"Well, he said he'd been having trouble with some of the other students in Vocal Adrenaline, but considering what we know about him and Rachel, I'd say it's more about that."

"Yeah, except remember what I said? He's  _gay._  He wouldn't be after Rachel any more than I would. You ask me, he's up to something. You'd do well to turn him away from Glee, say thanks but no thanks until after Regionals."

"Toby, we've never said no to anyone who wanted to join Glee. I'm not about to start now just because I'm afraid he's not being honest with his girlfriend."

"Sure." Toby's tone was caustic. "That's what this is about. Being honest. I can just  _bet_  you're feeling bad about luring away our star performer, no matter what an asshole he is -"

"Toby!" Will snapped. "I'm not - I  _wouldn't_  do that. You know me better than that."

There was a long pause. "I'm tryin' to, darlin'. You ain't makin' it all that easy."

"It's been... a hard week. But it's nothing about us, Toby, I swear. Things are just complicated. I'm trying to help Emma with her problems, and she can't..." He sighed, rubbing his forehead. Telling Toby about Emma's inability to have sex with a man felt like a betrayal of her privacy.

"I know how you're helping her. And I know I said I'm not gonna stand in your way. Only..." He sounded suddenly wistful, almost pleading, really nothing like Toby at all. "Just tell me, Will, straight up. She's not tryin' to take you away from me, is she?"

"No." That was easy, at least. "We're just friends. She's not a threat to us."

"And there's nothing else you want to tell me?"

"Nothing," he swore. "Nothing you haven't already heard a hundred times, anyway." He leaned on his elbow, cupping the phone closer to his face. "I miss you."

"Me, too, darlin.' It's amazin' how fast a body can get used to being close, and how long a couple of days can seem. We used to go  _years_  without seein' each other."

"Yeah, and I never want to do that again."

He could hear Toby's smile. "You've got yourself a deal. This weekend, I'll drive up. And I'll grill Shelby about Jesse's possible motivation for this switcharoo. He's a slippery one, but she's slipperier. If anybody can figure out his motives, I bet she can."

* * *

Finn decided there was definitely a difference between keeping a bad secret and keeping a good one. Good ones felt kind of tickly in his stomach, like it was Christmas Eve. Watching Kurt walk around in his Sherlock Holmes jacket and matching hat was a good secret because, as awesome as Kurt looked in that outfit, Finn knew what Kurt was going to change into after lunch.

Even Puck frowning over his turkey pastrami didn't worry him too much. Finn just nudged Puck under the cafeteria table with one foot and murmured, "Don't worry. He's doing great today, and he's gonna do great at the pep assembly."

"No, I know. That's not it." Puck's frown intensified into a glare, directed at his sandwich. "You're not gonna be happy about what Shelby just told me."

It was still a little weird that Puck was developing a friendship with this teacher from Toby's school, but Finn knew he didn't have much of a leg to stand on when it came to weird relationships. "What is it?"

"It's that Jesse guy. The one Rachel wasn't supposed to be dating?"

Finn tried not to sigh. "What about him?"

"He's here. In Lima. And..." Puck gave him a pained look. "He's staying with his uncle."

"You mean he's moving to  _Lima?"_  As Finn stared at Puck, Puck's expression slid into a grimace.

"For the rest of the school year. But... dude. You don't understand." Puck leaned forward across the table. "He's staying with his uncle  _Carl."_

"His..." Finn felt the blood drain from his face. "Oh... oh. Crap."

"Yeah. You know she won't let me ask about Carl, but I think there's something going on there." He watched Finn unhappily. "I'm sorry to fuck up your day."

"No, it's not your fault. You were just... like, the messenger." Finn felt his cell phone in his pocket like a burning brand. He wasn't allowed to call Carl during the day, or text him, unless it was an emergency. He guessed this didn't constitute an emergency. It just  _sucked._  "I don't get it. How could Rachel's boyfriend's uncle be...  _Carl?"_

"Carl's got a sister? Or a brother? Didn't you tell me he was an only child?"

"Maybe. I can't really remember; he never talks about his parents. All I really know is they don't get along." Talking about Carl this much at school already felt edgy, and he stared around himself nervously. "God. Maybe  _that's_  why he told me to meet him at the office instead of at his house on Tuesday. Because Jesse's staying there?"

"Fuck, man." Puck moved to stand up. "We've got to tell Kurt."

"No!" Finn controlled his voice with an effort. "Dude, you can't mess him up. Not before his big performance."

"But Shelby said Jesse's coming to school  _today._  Don't you think it'd be worse for Kurt to find out by accident that our big competition -  _your_  big competition - is moving to Lima?"

Finn shook his head. "No, I don't think so. Like you said, he's my competition, not Kurt's." He straightened his shoulders. "I can deal with this. Rachel's got some explaining to do."

But Rachel's reaction when he told her the news was too real to be faked. She just wasn't that good an actress. He only wished he'd made more of an effort to find a private place to talk, rather than stealing a few minutes before Mr. Schue's "special lunchtime meeting." Finn could only assume what that was going to be about.

"Jesse didn't tell me," she whispered, looking bewildered. "Finn, I promise you."

"No... no, I get it. But I don't trust him."

"You don't even know him," she protested. He could see the light shining in her eyes. He recognized that look well. It was the same expression Kurt had when he talked about Adam. Finn guessed he looked a lot like that when he talked about Carl.  _Stupid NRE. It makes people completely unreasonable._ He sighed and grasped her arm, startling her.

"Rachel, I don't need to know him. This whole situation stinks. There's no way he's not fucking with us in some way. I'm not saying you shouldn't be with him," he added, seeing her fury mount. "I'm just saying you need to at least consider the possibility that he's not everything he seems to be."

She huffed, clutching her notebook, and tugged her arm out of his grasp. "Well, I guess you would know something about that, wouldn't you?"

"Hey." He stared back at her, feeling hurt. "I've gone out of my way to tell you the truth. Even the stuff I  _knew_  you didn't want to hear, because you told me that was important."

"It is important!" Rachel insisted. "And believe me, I appreciate it. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to feel hurt when you do it."

He shook his head. "Sounds like a lose-lose situation if you ask me."

"Finn," she tried, but Mr. Schue called for attention. Finn blinked as a boy dressed absurdly like Mr. Schue walked into the choir room to stand beside him. Finn's first thought was,  _oh good, he's way shorter than me,_  and his second thought was,  _wow, Rachel was totally right, he's hot._ His third thought emerged in the embarrassment that followed: _I am so completely gay._

After giving Rachel a tight nod, Jesse zeroed in on Finn, his gaze cool and calculating. "So you're the rival lead?"

"This..." Mr. Schue gestured at the boy as he faced the Glee club, his jaw clenched. "This is Jesse St. James. He's the newest member of the New Directions."

"Oh... my... god," Mercedes muttered.

Jesse still hadn't taken his eyes off of Finn. A faint smile appeared on his face, and it wasn't even a little bit nice.

"Hardly worth my time," he murmured, "but I suppose I can see the appeal of the fresh-faced jock."

"Hey," Santana chimed in, examining her nails and completely ignoring Jesse, "you haven't earned the right to talk about Puffy Pyramid Nipples like that."

"What the hell?" Finn could feel his face burning. He was going to have to talk to Santana about coming up with a better cover story than that. "Now it seems like everybody's doing things just to hurt my feelings."

Jesse surveyed the room with a supercilious sneer. "I thought you all would take this news a little better. I'm a star. You could learn from me."

Finn had been right; Kurt appeared to be a lot less rattled than Finn himself felt. He lounged back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "We were already fighting for second leads, and now that you've shown up, I've lost all chance of getting a solo."

"He's a spy, Mr. Schue." Santana glared at Jesse from behind crossed arms. "And I should know. I've been a double-agent for long enough."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, guys." Schue put out his hands. "I saw the paperwork, and I spoke with his parents."

"They winter in Bali," Jesse volunteered. "It's a very expensive phone call."

"Jesse just moved in with his uncle who lives in our school district. It's all above board, guys; he goes to this school now."

"But this isn't fair," protested Artie.

"Guys!" Mr. Schue looked downright angry now. "Every person who's ever auditioned for this group has gotten in. That's how we  _do_  things here. To change the rules now - _that_  would be unfair."

Rachel stared at Jesse, completely mystified. "I don't understand why you're doing this."

He gazed into her eyes. "Because when you love something, you've got to go for it. You could never be with me completely if I were on the opposing team. And I care about you more than winning another national title. So I left Vocal Adrenaline. For you."

Finn waited for the cries of  _bullshit_  from the rest of Glee, but everybody was apparently too stunned to argue any further. It didn't matter. This was where Finn's experience as a leader came into play. He watched Mr. Schue shake Jesse's hand, and Rachel smiling at him like she'd been handed the cure for cancer, and all he could see was the long view.  _We're fucked._

Their rehearsal that afternoon was disjointed and awkward with Jesse there, interjecting directorial suggestions every few minutes, but they managed to get through it without anybody throwing a fit.

Finn caught Kurt's tweed elbow before they broke early for the pep assembly. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Kurt said, looking confused.

He sighed. "I'm watching Rachel go completely bonkers for this asshole, and all I can think is... you watched me do this, with... you know who. Didn't you?"

Kurt's smile was kind. "Finn... I'm  _still_  watching you do it."

"Yeah," he muttered, "okay. Then I'm even more sorry."

"But don't you see, there's at least one crucial difference?"

Finn couldn't. "What?"

"We actually  _like_  him." Kurt smiled. "And now... you're watching me do it, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but..." Finn felt himself relaxing, smiling back. "Okay. I do like A- him, too."

"Yes," he agreed. "I'm really glad. It does matter. Maybe you don't love Jesse, but I'm guessing Rachel would feel a lot better about things if you would put a little work into finding something you could like about him."

Finn took a few steps away before he made a really stupid mistake and hugged Kurt right in the middle of the choir room. "Good luck," he whispered.

"You're supposed to say  _break a leg,"_  Kurt stage-whispered back.

Finn shook his head, horrified. "I don't want you to break anything!"

Kurt just smiled wider. "It's bad luck to say  _good luck."_

He really didn't understand theater sometimes.

Somehow, Kurt managed to make it to the pep assembly without most of the school realizing what was going on. Then the horns began, and they heard Kurt's distinctive voice over the gym speakers.

<http://video.vulture.com/video/Glee-Four-Minutes>

He was amazing, as they knew he would be, but Puck was completely captured by Mercedes' performance. "Fuckin' A!" he crowed, grinning like a madman. "She's kicking some serious ass out there. That girl can  _wail._ "

Finn hoped he wouldn't get in trouble for taking video of the performance on his phone, but the whole school's attention appeared to be on Kurt and Mercedes, including Mr. Schue's and Coach Sylvester's, so he figured he was pretty safe. All he could think was,  _Adam needs to see this._

The song had barely come to a close before Schue was off the risers and in Coach Sylvester's face, while Mercedes and Kurt joined them. Puck watched the four of them converge with wary tension.

"You think Kurt needs backup?" he murmured to Finn.

Kurt's posture was tall and graceful, and he was speaking calmly. Finn felt a stab of love for him.  _My baby,_  he thought, smiling.  _He's doing this, all by himself, and he's winning._

"No," Finn replied. "No, I think he's got it covered."

* * *

It was a lot less risky to shut themselves into the attic room after school hours. They hadn't needed it in several days, long before they left for California, but Finn was pretty sure they weren't going to make it home before they started peeling Kurt out of that Cheerios uniform. Kurt let them take it off him with only mild protestations and rather a lot of laughing.

"I'm all sweaty," he complained, but neither Puck nor Finn were listening. Finn managed to get the Cheerios top off him without messing up his hair too much. Adam's stylist hadn't changed that much, but it was enough to make him look older, more sophisticated, and Kurt had replicated his efforts flawlessly

"You've got to take a picture of your 'do for Luis," Puck said, grinning, and went back to depositing wet kisses on Kurt's neck. Kurt squeaked a little, but there was no question he was enjoying it. "Seriously, Kurt, you looked amazing out there."

"I  _felt_  amazing." Kurt's response was completely honest. He seemed a little breathless to be saying it, although that could have been due to the kissing. "I kind of can't believe I did it."

"You totally did," Finn said, kissing his lips as best as he could through his grin. "And I got it on video, as proof."

"You - Finn!" Kurt looked more outraged than anything else, which just made Finn laugh harder.

"Yep." He fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Kurt. "Here."

They lined up against the low part of the sloping attic wall behind their mattress, shirtless Kurt in the middle, all of them leaning over Finn's phone to watch the snippet of video. Kurt held his breath, laughing nervously.

"Thank you," he said to Finn when it was over, putting a hand on his leg.

"Well, I figured Adam was the one who got you to do this, so he kind of deserved a chance to see it. I didn't email it to him yet, though; I thought you'd want to do that."

Kurt's face split in an astonished smile before he abandoned the phone to climb on top of Finn, smothering him with kisses. Finn couldn't complain, but he knew he couldn't let himself get distracted.

"You should call him," he urged. Kurt bit his lip, looking over at Puck, who raised an eyebrow, shrugging.

"It's kinda early, but why not? We can leave him a voice mail if we can't get through."

Finn moved away, smiling at the two of them as they settled in close around the phone, their shoulders pressed together, Puck's hand on Kurt's knee. He reached in and tapped his phone in Kurt's hand. "Can I get this back? I'll send you the file, but I've got to go."

"You don't have to," Kurt protested, "not just because we're calling -"

"No, no, I know," Finn assured him. "Just, after what happened today with Jesse, I think I need to talk to Carl. It's not going to be easy for us to see each other, with Jesse living there. And I've still got homework to catch up on from Tuesday."

Kurt watched him heading for the door. He didn't look happy. "Will I - would you come over later? I was hoping we could have some time together, the three of us."

"Yeah, definitely." Finn leaned in and kissed Kurt. After a moment's hesitation, he kissed Puck, too. Puck's sardonic expression didn't fool him; he knew Puck liked it, even if he wasn't in a mental place to show it.

_Later,_  he thought, and caught Puck's eyes with a meaningful stare. Puck blanched, his hand clutching Kurt's leg more tightly. Finn could see Puck's breathing go uneven, and he smiled with satisfaction. He turned back to Kurt. "Tell my mom I won't be too late."

It was only a half hour walk from school to Dr. Howell's and Dr. Lawton's office downtown, as long as the weather wasn't too bad. Finn considered showing up without calling, but he was pretty sure that was grounds for a spanking. No matter how sexy that was, it wasn't ever something he was  _hoping_  Carl would give him, because of what it meant. He  _wanted_  to do everything right, to make Carl proud of him, not to point out what needed correcting. He managed to dial and navigate the slushy streets at the same time without getting hit by traffic.

"Finn." Carl's voice was calm as ever. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you again until our trip to Columbus on Saturday."

"Yeah, I know it's not our usual day, but... something happened at school today. I think you know what I'm talking about."

There was a pause. "Maybe you should tell me, since I'm supposed to be aware of - whatever it is you're bringing up?"

"It's  _Jesse._ I'm talking about your nephew." Finn couldn't tell for certain over the cell connection, but he thought he heard him suck in a breath. "Yeah. What, did you think I wasn't going to find out, with him living at your  _house?"_

"I didn't think it was your business," he said mildly.

"Yeah, no. Rachel's my friend, and Jesse's her boyfriend... or something, and I can't believe you wouldn't  _tell_ me!" By now his voice had risen. There wasn't really anybody on the street to hear him, but he still felt like an idiot, shouting at the phone in his hand. He controlled himself anyway, sighing. "I'm sorry, sir... but I thought you trusted me more than that."

"Finn, what kind of a question is that? Of course I trust you, and with things a lot more complex than Jesse's identity. I honestly didn't think it would come up. The last I heard, he and Rachel had... broken up."

Finn realized he was caught between his promise to be honest to Carl, and his agreement not to spill the beans about Rachel and Jesse.  _Too late now,_ he thought, rubbing his eyes. "No. They're still seeing each other. They had a date on Tuesday, when I was... when I had a date with Santana and Brittany."

"I see."

"Yeah. According to Rachel, they did the same stuff I was doing with Santana and Brittany."

"They - they  _what?"_  It came out in a hoarse, shocked whisper, and Finn paused on the sidewalk to rethink what he'd said in his head. It was all still true.

"Yeah, except I'm pretty sure she was lying. Rachel's not ready for sex with anybody, not even a boy she's in love with."

The silence went on for long enough that Finn cleared his throat.

"Sir? Could I come over to the office? I can wait if you've got a client."

"I'm not currently occupied." He sounded distant.

"Are you..." Finn swallowed uneasily. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No." Carl sighed. "No. I apologize. This is just... more complicated than I had expected. Jesse and I will need to have a conversation about this."

He rounded the corner from Market onto Main. "So he's really your nephew?"

"Not in the legal sense. By birth, he's Davis' son, from his first marriage."

"Oh, yeah, I remember he said he had a kid." Then Finn realized what Carl had said, and he had to stop before he fell off the curb. "Holy shit, Davis is his  _dad?"_

"Jesse's adopted parents kept the adoption open, and when he became old enough to understand, they told him about his birth parents. We've always been close with him, though, Davis and I, even before he knew the truth. It was... a good arrangement." Carl still sounded distressed. It made Finn feel antsy.

"So can I come over or not?" he pressed. He was within sight of the office window now, close enough to read the stenciled lettering on the window.

"I have a client at five, Finn; I doubt you can make it to the office quickly enough to make it worth the trip."

"That doesn't sound like a no." He approached the front double doors, pushing them open to greet Angela at the front desk with a smile. Into the phone, he added, "What would you bet I can make it in under ten minutes?"

Carl spoke sharply. "Don't do anything unsafe."

"I won't, sir," he promised. Finn jerked his head in the direction of Carl's office, and Angela nodded silently, looking quizzical, but not interfering. He made his way down the hallway, pausing outside Carl's door, one hand resting on the wood. Soundproofing came in handy sometimes. "I'm not exactly reckless."

"No, you're not." Now Carl sounded like he was smiling, and Finn smiled in response, leaning his forehead against the door. He knocked twice, and heard Carl stand up. "Would you excuse me a moment?"

"Sure." He quietly thumbed off the phone and tucked it into his pocket before the door opened, and Carl stopped short, staring up at Finn with startled blue eyes. Finn grinned back, hands shoved into his pockets. "Um... hi."

Carl opened his mouth to say something, but grabbed Finn's arm instead, pulling him into the office and shutting the door behind him. He was definitely laughing as he shoved Finn up against the back of the door, his eyes roving over Finn's face.

"You are a very sneaky boy," Carl murmured.

"Sometimes," Finn agreed, unable to keep the smugness out of his voice. "But I'm  _your_  sneaky boy."

* * *

Puck was on the phone when Finn walked into Kurt's basement that night. Finn dropped his backpack on the green couch, giving Kurt a questioning glance. "Didn't you guys get through to Adam earlier?"

"He's not talking to Adam," Kurt said, barely looking up from his homework. "That's Mercedes. And you're late."

Finn frowned. "I didn't say when I'd be back. And it's not that late."

"You weren't up at six-thirty for Cheerios practice," Kurt snapped. He dug the lead of his pencil into the notebook, hard enough to leave a hole. "Dammit. Now I'll have to recopy these."

Finn sat down on the couch next to Kurt, reaching out to take the pencil and notebook out of his hands. He set them on the coffee table and opened his arms, waiting as Kurt scowled. "Baby."

"I'm not happy," Kurt insisted, eyeing Finn, but he moved into his lap readily enough, sighing deeply as he settled against his chest. He closed his eyes. "That... does feel good."

"You're telling me." Finn wrapped him up with his arms, applying a little pressure, and he felt Kurt relax further. He kissed Kurt's cheek. "You've had a long day."

"It wasn't, though. I mean, nothing bad happened.  _Nothing._  I can't remember the last time I could say that about school. Nobody teased me, no  _fag_  remarks, nothing. It was... such a relief."

"I'm really glad you figured out a way to get that," Finn said fervently.

"Yes, well... apparently when I get what I want, I act out." Kurt let out another exasperated sigh, making Finn smile.

"You know I can take care of that," he whispered, and Kurt shivered. "As soon as Puck's off the phone, we'll go in the bedroom."

As though on cue, Puck came to the doorway, leaning on the frame. "Hey, I'll put you on speaker," he said into the phone. He held it out for them to hear. "I was talking to Aretha about my idea for a Madonna number."

" _Your_  idea?" Finn looked at Kurt, who had brightened. "What happened to  _guys don't sing Madonna?"_

"No, but you don't understand. This is for Adam. And these lyrics don't suck." His eyes glittered. "Not the way we're gonna sing them, anyway."

"Yeah, and you're  _not_  going to mention any of that stuff to my mom," Mercedes said severely, his voice sounding funny over the speakerphone. "You're going to let her keep her illusions that she's just helping us sing about God, you got that? If you want her to let me keep coming over to your house, anyway."

Kurt looked as mystified as Finn felt. "What does your mom have to do with it?"

"That's my idea," Puck explained. "After the pep assembly today, I could totally see it. A gospel choir, backing us up, and Mercedes said she could provide one. But I'm a shit choreographer. Kurt, you're gonna have to do it."

"Noah." Kurt's face was red, but he was smiling. "That's no way to ask for a favor."

Puck blinked, his smile slipping a little. "Uh... yeah. Sorry."

"I think that's my cue to leave," Mercedes said. "I'm pretty sure I don't want to hear this part. Kurt, we'll talk in the morning about whatever dance steps you come up with. Puck, the retired portion of the church choir'll be at school in time for Glee tomorrow."

"Roger. And thanks again." Puck tossed his phone on his bag, then came around to the front of the couch, where he knelt before Kurt. Finn watched him with a mixture of enjoyment and envy.  _He wouldn't do that for me anymore. Not yet, anyway._

Kurt's cheeks were scarlet by now. "Noah..."

"Sir," Puck said reverently, without a trace of mocking, "would you help me write the stupid choreography for this Madonna number so it won't suck? Please?"

Kurt leaned forward off Finn's lap far enough to take Puck into his arms, all anxiety erased. "Sweetheart... I would love to. Please, tell me all about your ideas."

* * *

Kurt was grateful to Finn for more than one reason. The first made his bottom sting a little, but he felt a hundred times more relaxed afterward. Only Finn could wield that suede flogger hard enough to make him gasp and whine, and he was able to drop some of his anxiety and focus on the choreography for "Like A Prayer."

The second reason was more surprising. Finn sat beside Kurt on the couch, one arm slung casually around his back as Kurt drew concept diagrams for the steps. He didn't appear to be paying attention, but when Kurt paused, thinking through a series of moves, Finn pointed to the paper and said, "I should stand here, by myself, here."

Kurt knitted his brow. "Why?"

"Because that's my solo line. We're all moving from a group number back into solo lines, while Glee is humming backup, right? Well..." Finn took the pencil from Kurt's hand and drew arrows across the diagram, moving stage left. "If they all move away, kind of quietly, the focus will be on me. And then it's your line, and -"

"And then everybody moves back to the right," Kurt murmured. "Yes, yes, I see it. That's good." He contemplated Finn. "I didn't know you enjoyed choreography."

"Maybe not." FInn shrugged, settling back against the couch. "Maybe I'm just learning to pay attention."

After that, they passed the pencil back and forth, arguing, scribbling ideas and erasing others. Kurt had to admit that Finn contributed more of the ideas than he did. But it was clearly better, the two of them working together, moving more surely toward a result he could be happy with. When he was done, he sighed with satisfaction, leaning into Finn's half-embrace.

"This was a great idea," he said. Then, raising his voice to Puck in the bedroom, "You're a genius."

"Of course I am," Puck called back. Finn sighed, but this was due to exasperation. He gave Kurt a half-smile.

"I think maybe he needs some of what I gave you," he murmured. Kurt felt himself tense, just briefly, before nodding.

"I'm not sure I'm ready to step back into that role, after watching Adam handle it for the last week. It's a little intimidating." He drummed on his leg with his pencil until Finn reached out a gentle hand to still it. "I don't think I quite measure up."

"Baby, no." Finn shook his head. "I've seen what you do with him. It's nothing but awesome. It's like... these dance steps we wrote. You're so graceful, so beautiful. Like you've got everything planned out ahead of time, in your head, and it just unfolds."

Kurt chuckled in nervous surprise. "Trust me, that's not at  _all_ how things happen. I have no idea what I'm doing half the time."

"You follow your instincts. And they're good." Finn looked back over his shoulder at Puck, doing his crunches on the floor of Kurt's bedroom. "He completely adores you, you know."

The warm sensation in his core was just for Noah. "I do know," he agreed. "And I completely adore him."

"That's still kind of the best thing ever." Finn leaned over and kissed his cheek. "So I can either wait for you to deal with that, or I can go home. Your call."

Kurt tried not to give into disappointment. "Or you could stay, and be in there with us?"

"I could do that. I just didn't want to be in the way."

He put a hand on Finn's chest and gave him a little indignant shove. "You are  _not._  Don't even talk about that. I always want you there, and you know Noah wants it from you."

"I know he says he does. I also know it's not that simple." Finn's own mouth twisted. "I really, really know that. But... yeah. I don't really want to leave, either. We can all cram into that bed again."

* * *

Kurt arrived early at school again the next day, although it wasn't for Cheerios practice. After filming the "Vogue" video with Artie and the help of the A/V club, Kurt knew that Lauren Zizes spent most mornings in the computer lab, working on her own personal projects. She wouldn't let any of them see what they were about, and nobody was going to push her, least of all Kurt, so he made sure to make plenty of noise as he approached the room that morning.

She still looked pissed as she glanced up from her screen, taking him in. "Oh. It's you."

"I won't keep you long," he assured her. "I just had a favor to ask. I need somebody to take video of the Glee club rehearsal this afternoon, and I want it to be good."

"I can probably get out of art." She squinted at him. "It'll cost you, though."

"Um... okay?" He wasn't quite sure what to make of Lauren. She was definitely badass, and she seldom spoke to him, but when she did, it seemed to be such a weird mixture of oddball humor and angry get-out-of-my-face that he felt like he was always about to say the wrong thing. "What...?"

"A dozen donuts from Pat's." Her smile was almost predatory, and he resisted taking a step back. "Mixed. I don't care what kind; just make sure they're fresh."

"Great. Thank you. It's a whole stage number, so you might want to bring your tripod -"

"Kurt." She effectively cut him off with that one word, but her smile became a little more gentle. "I don't micromanage your music shit. You don't tell the stage crew how to handle the technical stuff."

"Uh - yes, of course. My apologies." He tried smiling back. "Thank you."

"Are we done here?" Her eyes were already back on her screen, and Kurt retreated, murmuring vague words of departure.

Now that that piece was in place, he could concentrate on teaching his half of Glee club their choreography. Kurt had taken on the girls, and Puck was going to teach the boys. Finn had declined when Kurt had asked him to do it. "Planning it is one thing," he'd said, "but  _dancing_  it is another. I'll leave that to you guys."

He managed to grab the girls for a few minutes before lunch. Britt and Tina picked up the concept quickly enough, and they showed Santana and Rachel; Mercedes had fewer steps, so she would catch on easily enough at Glee rehearsal.

"Why would Lauren Zizes ask for a dozen donuts as payment for something?" he asked Tina, as they all paused for a breather. "I really don't get it. A dozen is less than ten bucks. She could get them as easily as I could."

"I wouldn't spend much time wondering about Zizes," Santana said, with a toss of her head. "She's got layers, and I'm not talking about her weight. Best steer clear, or she might get mean."

Tina leaned in a little later, as he was running through the second half of the choreography. "I think her parents have her on a diet," she whispered. "Like, they won't let her eat any junk food. She doesn't ever eat in the cafeteria, but Artie and I sometimes have lunch with her."

"Oh." Now Kurt felt anxious again. "Do you think she's diabetic or something? I don't want to make her sick."

"You could ask, but I wouldn't expect Lauren to do something that would really hurt herself. She's smart, smarter than me. Smarter than Artie, I think."

Lauren didn't bring up the donuts when she arrived in the auditorium, though, and after taking a look at her stony expression, Kurt decided not to push for personal details right then. She seemed entirely focused on business, setting up her equipment and checking levels.

When they climbed the steps to the stage, she called out, "What're you using for playback?"

He paused on the edge of the proscenium. "Um - excuse me?"

"The accompaniment, Imelda," she sighed. "I don't see the jazz band anywhere around here. What do you have, a karaoke track or something? What are you playing it on?"

"Mr. Schue has a boom box," he said, indicating where it was plugged in on the side of the stage. Lauren strode over to it, clicking her tongue, and pressed eject.

"Yeah, if you want it to sound like Kentucky-fried ass on the video. I'm feeding it directly into the recorder from the auditorium sound system. You call out action and cut; I'll handle playback."

"Oh - thank you?" Kurt watched her hop up onto the apron of the stage and duck into the wings to where the lights and audio equipment resided. Puck watched Kurt with curiosity as he shook his head. "I hate feeling incompetent, but I really don't understand the electronics side of the theater."

"You don't have to know how to do everything, babe. Everybody totally does their part, right? That's what makes Glee awesome." Puck glanced around. "Speaking of that, where the hell's Finn?"

"Here," they heard from the back of the auditorium. They weren't the only ones staring. Finn was walking down the aisle with -  _Jesse?_  Rachel arrived a few moments later, trailing behind them with a bemused expression. They took the stairs onto the stage two at a time. Kurt looked carefully at Finn, but he seemed calm, and Jesse wasn't glaring at him, or anybody else. In fact, he appeared to be watching Finn pretty carefully himself.

"Is everything... that is, are you ready to... join us?"

Finn nodded. "I was just telling Jesse about 'Like a Prayer.' It shouldn't be any trouble for him to pick up the steps."

Jesse's expression was remote. "I couldn't agree more. Walk me through it."

Puck led everybody through the blocking, describing their ideas about the lighting and the movement of the curtain as he did so. At one point, there was a quiet snort from the wings on stage right. He paused, seeking out Lauren's silhouette in the dark.

"Do you have a suggestion?" he said archly.

"Only about nine billion, but I'll start with the worst disasters. You don't want a purple spotlight when you're wearing red shirts. You'll end up looking blue. What color are the choir robes?"

"Yellow," volunteered Mercedes.

"Stick with yellow lights, then. If you want to flash some purple in later when the robes are on, it'll be fine. Who did you think was going to handle your lighting for you, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Fuckwad? Hang on, I'll have to fire up the mixing board."

Mercedes didn't look too happy to be taking orders from Lauren, but when Artie wheeled over to her and said a few quiet words, she returned to her place on stage.

Jesse was looking puzzled. "What about your director?"

"What about him?"

He shook his head. "Why isn't he  _directing_  you? It looks like this - the choreography, the lighting, these costumes - it's all coming from the students."

Kurt was about to snap at him, but Rachel broke in, smiling. "Glee club is a collaborative effort. It's not a new model, but it's following contemporary trends. Kurt and Finn even met with Lady Gaga in California last week to share creative ideas."

"You're shitting me." Jesse cocked his head at Finn, a faint smile playing over his mouth. "Don't tell me I underestimated you?"

"Almost certainly," Kurt responded, before Finn could respond. "Come on, people, we need to go through the whole thing at least twice before Mercedes' singers arrive."

The first run-through was disjointed, but about halfway through the second attempt, they found their groove. Puck gave Kurt a grin on his way into the turns, throwing in a little hip-waggle, and Kurt almost lost the melody line, even though he'd probably sung the song fifty times before. He watched Jesse take them all in, doing the choreography they'd written mechanically, but flawlessly.

"You guys suck," Lauren called from the wings. "I'm going to stand here and stare at you and hope I can improve you with the powers of my mind."

Artie grinned up at Kurt. "I think that was a compliment."

* * *

Jesse thought he might make it to his Range Rover without further interruption, which was just fine with him. Attending this joke of a school was clearly going to be many things, but simple was not one of them. He was ready for his first day to be over, and for a dose of Aleve and a long, hot bath in Uncle Carl's jacuzzi.

"Jesse."

He stopped mid-stride, taking a calming breath before turning around, bland smile firmly pasted on. "I thought you might be otherwise engaged after practice."

"It's Friday. No sports practices on Friday." Finn paused, considering him from his taller vantage point. "I wanted to talk to you about what you said earlier."

"About Rachel being a keeper?" Jesse smiled. "I'll tell you the truth; when she told me about her quarterback ex-boyfriend, I didn't expect you to be..." He trailed off, waiting for Finn to take the bait. But Finn just went on, ignoring Jesse's calculated leer.

"You asked if you'd underestimated me."

"And?"

There was that little smile again. "And I'm going to throw it back to you. Sing-off. You pick the place and the time, and I'll be there."

"Are you serious?"

"You want to find out?"

"I think you're going to be outclassed no matter where we do it." Jesse shrugged. "But, okay. My uncle's got a grand piano. My house, this Sunday, 1 pm. Just you and me. You bring your own accompanist. Or, hell, a fucking karaoke track, if you must."

Finn's smile had dropped away, leaving behind an expression that was hard to read. "Who's the judge?" he said finally.

"Somebody with nothing invested either way. Oh, I know; my uncle has a housekeeper. She can judge."

Finn was gritting his teeth, and Jesse resisted the urge to grin. "All right. You're on. Sunday, 1 pm."

"Song parameters?" he asked. "You can rule out showtunes if you want to. I'd slaughter you."

"No restrictions. Just your voice and mine. And the winner..." He paused.

"The winner," Jesse prompted.

Finn's smile returned, though it was tight-lipped. "The winner... wins."

It was laughable, really, but Jesse couldn't seem to get the sound out. It might have been the intense way Finn was staring at him. "Agreed," he said.

Finn took a few steps away, nodding, before turning, his long strides carrying him toward the waiting Navigator. Jesse couldn't see who was driving, but based on what he'd already observed, he had a few guesses.

It wasn't a long drive back to his uncle's, but he used the GPS anyway. Lima was mostly a bunch of straight lines downtown, but by the time you got out to the Lima Heights district, it was all sprawling estates, large parcels of land connected by long, sloping roads. Carl's house was older, tucked in between the more shoddy new construction of the past couple decades. It seemed somewhat out of place in a middle-of-nowhere town like this.

He could see Carl's Corvette in the garage, so he wasn't surprised to find him upstairs in his office. Carl gave him Jesse a distracted smile when he saw him in the doorway.

"Dinner's at five-thirty tonight," he said, setting his glasses on the desk and rubbing his eyes. "I have an evening appointment."

"Thank you. I have a favor to ask, if you might permit me to use your piano this Sunday." He paused, seeing Carl's inquisitive nod. "And your housekeeper?"

Carl lowered his raised brow. "Explain, please."

"Well, it being my first day at a new school, I find myself in a bit of a... battle for territory. I need to find my place within the established community. It's not going to be easy. I'll be relying on my strengths."

"You're planning to perform something?"

"A friendly song competition, to establish dominance. I don't think it'll be a problem, but I needed an impartial judge. Do you suppose your housekeeper would listen?"

"I'm certain Angela would give you her honest opinion, if you asked. She was a performer, long ago, but not a musician. You may ask her, if you wish." Then he paused. "This is... another student?"

"He's the male lead in their show choir. Such as it is." He shrugged, but it was interesting to note that Carl dropped his genial expression and looked... well, like he might want to knock Jesse around a little. Jesse tried not to react, keeping his face calm. "What is it?"

"I heard through your father that you're dating a girl. Actually, he thinks you're not dating her anymore, but my sources tell me you still are."

"We're not dating," Jesse said. "She might think we are, but we're not. And what business is it of yours any-"

"Cut the crap, Jesse." Carl's voice was flat and soft. He didn't look angry, but Jesse bristled anyway. "You might be able to fool your mother, but you're not going to fool me. I know she told you not to do anything untoward with that girl."

"I'm eighteen, Uncle Carl. You don't get to tell me what to do any more than Shelby does." He grimaced. "And if you must know, we had a night together planned, and she couldn't go through with it anyway."

"She couldn't..." His eyes opened wide, and he sat back in his chair. "Oh, thank god."

"Not really." Jesse peered at him. "So much for my acting ability. She's totally on my side, but this boy has some kind of hold over her. I guess I get it, but..." He trailed off, watching Carl. "What is it?"

"Jesse," he said. "Your mother and I have known each other for a long time."

Jesse nodded. "Since she and Davis were in college, I know. They were married, before you and he got together."

He leaned his arms on the desk. "We haven't always seen eye to eye on matters of... well, most things. But especially you. There are things that she hasn't wanted me to tell you. But, as you said, you're an adult now, and this is one of those times when I think it might be better to go against your mother's wishes. It might... no, it'll definitely cause you difficulty with her, but I think I can bear the brunt of that." He stared hard at Jesse. "I just want you to be clear that I'm doing this because I think I have no other option."

"Whatever it is, I can handle it," said Jesse, straightening his back. "I'm no innocent."

"That's not the question. Jesse... this girl you're dating. Rachel."

He felt the shock of hearing her name spoken, here, in Carl's office. "How did you -"

"Jesse," Carl said wearily, "Rachel's your sister."

Jesse laughed. "No, that's wrong. Rachel has two gay -" He stopped the words before they could leave his lips, and left them open, holding the possibility of Carl's insinuation.

"Hiram and Leroy. You know them. I don't think you realized they were her dads, though, did you?"

" _They're_  Rachel's dads?" he blurted. He scrambled for a framework. "Shelby. She's... god, they look so much alike, but I never thought..."

"I can neither confirm nor deny that." Carl wasn't looking at him now. "I think you should talk to her, though."

Jesse took a shaky step back and sat down on the chair that bumped the back of his legs. "Fuck. She told me I shouldn't - that Rachel and I shouldn't do anything sexual. And I told her it didn't matter."

"Do you think it'd matter to Rachel?"

"I have no idea." But he pretty much did. He could imagine her prim, horrified response at this news, as much as he could have predicted she wasn't actually going to go through with having sex with him.

"Well, I hope this information helps guide you to a better decision." Carl picked up his glasses and settled them back onto his nose, turning some papers over. "If you'll excuse me, Jesse, I have work I need to do."

"Yeah, of course." He didn't rise immediately, but he could see how Carl was dismissing him.

"I'll see you at dinner."

Jesse made his way down the hallway, back to his room, to contemplate his options and craft a plan. He was not given to impulsive actions.

_Except with Rachel,_  he told himself, feeling the anger spike in him, hot and immediate.  _All right. She doesn't know, and she can't know. Or at least I'm not going to be the one to tell her. But this... god. Whatever this is we're doing, it can't go on. Only it'd be a hell of a lot easier to cut her loose if I didn't actually like her._

He sat on his bed for over an hour before he felt ready to pick up the phone and call his dad.

* * *

<http://vimeo.com/60657120>

_Life is a mystery, everyone must stand alone_   
_I hear you call my name  
_ _And it feels like home_

_When you call my name it's like a little prayer_   
_I'm down on my knees, I wanna take you there_   
_In the midnight hour I can feel your power  
_ _Just like a prayer you know I'll take you there_

_I hear your voice, it's like an angel sighing_   
_I have no choice, I hear your voice_   
_Feels like flying_   
_I close my eyes, oh God I think I'm falling_   
_Out of the sky, I close my eyes  
_ _Heaven help me_

_Like a child you whisper softly to me_   
_You're in control just like a child_   
_Now I'm dancing_   
_It's like a dream, no end and no beginning_   
_You're here with me, it's like a dream  
_ _Let the choir sing_

_\- Madonna, "Like A Prayer"_


End file.
